


The Worst Thing That Could Happen

by silverneko9lives0



Series: Burglar Bagginses AU [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Burglar!Bagginses, F/M, M/M, Novice Burglar Bilbo, One-Sided Relationship, Rings of Power, Sassy Bilbo, Sassy Nori, The Arkenstone - Freeform, The One Ring - Freeform, Unrequited Love, prisoner Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Baggins family is the most respectable Hobbit family in the entire land of the Shire. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>However, every family has its secrets and the Baggins family is not as respectable as they’d like all the other hobbits to believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lokipitch](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lokipitch).



<http://lokipitch.deviantart.com/art/Worst-Thing-That-Could-Happen-370296045>

* * *

 

The Baggins family is the most respectable Hobbit family in the entire land of the Shire. However, every family has its secrets and the Baggins family is not as respectable as they’d like all the other Hobbits to believe.

Truly I tell you, Belladonna Took hadn’t a clue of this secret when she married Bungo Baggins, the firstborn son of the firstborn son—of the _Burglar_.

You did not misread: Bungo’s father Mungo was the son of Balbo ‘The Burglar’ Baggins. Of course, Balbo wasn’t the first Baggins to take the name “Burglar,” but exactly when the family took up the illegal arts no one knew for sure.

It can be said that Balbo was the first to dare venture out of the Shire to perform his works. Jewels, gold, fine tapestries—all were found in the Baggins family vault.

When he married, he taught his son the trade. And Mungo taught Bungo.

“Respectability is our cover here,” he had explained to Bungo when the lad’s lessons began. “Many would not agree with our life if they knew what we do. Guard it. Keep it secret. And when you marry, make sure you marry a Hobbitess who will not expose you if she finds out. She might lose her respect for you, but so long as you have a child to pass the craft on, you’re good.”

“What about my younger siblings?”

“The only way we maintain the lie is to only teach the eldest son and _only_ the eldest son. That was my father before me, and me before you, and you will teach your own firstborn son.”

This trade had been passed on from father to son for generations and the good Shire-folk nary a thought against the respectable Baggins family. If they thought _anyone_ were to have been a family of robbers, they’d have said it was the Took family, richest in all the Shire.

Oh, dearest Belladonna, when she discovered the kind of family she _actually_ married into, had laughed herself silly.

“No wonder I liked you,” she told Bungo after fishing the secret out of him when he came home late one night, rubbing her belly now heavily round with their child.

Imagine her surprise to find her husband dressed in black clothes secure enough to allow him to run if need be, a cloak fastened around his neck, and a mask which when worn covered the lower half of his face, a sack resting beside him filled with gold from the Blue Mountains which the Dwarves would fly into a panic about once they knew it had gone missing. He wore a belt around his belly not only to hold his trousers up, but also to hold a purse where the most important tool of his trade was kept—apart from his throwing knives, lock picks, and grappling hook.

“But still! To not tell me for more than a year since our wedding?! Bungo, there will be words. I promise you that.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, grinning. “Not until morning though.”

A few weeks after that, Belladonna went into labor, giving birth to a son, named Bilbo—more due to a slight slur when Bungo had tried to name the child after his grandfather. Poor Hobbit was beside himself with nerves.

The birth had been rough on his wife. Any other child they had hoped to have became a long lost dream.

Disappointed though they were it didn’t matter for they had a son to carry on the family name and trade.

Young Bilbo grew up knowing he would become a burglar and while in public, his curiosity was discouraged and that was the front the Baggins family put out, Bilbo had been often encouraged to enjoy his time exploring. Belladonna said it was the Took in him and his aptitude for sneaking out under his father’s nose was usually rewarded and punished simultaneously. Depending on the time of day and the appropriateness of _where_ Bilbo had run off to.

“While I am proud of you, Lad,” Bungo had said in Bree one night after yelling at the boy for running off when his back was turned. “Bree is no place for a child to get lost in and until you can defend yourself in a tight situation, it’s best to stay close.”

Bilbo had sniffed and nodded, still rubbing his sore bottom.

That, however, was when he was eight years of age, twenty-five years ago. Not to the day, of course. Rather a few months off, but still.

“Dearest Bagginses and Boffins!” Bungo shouted, standing onto a platform.

Bilbo groaned, deciding it was time to slip away. His mother seized his arm and pulled him back down.

“It won’t be so bad.”

“It was bad at Adalgrim’s and Rorimac’s,” he muttered. “Why would Dad be merciful?”

Belladonna just shrugged. Bilbo crossed his arms and cracked his neck, tuning out the long line of relatives from Bagginses, Boffins, Bolgers, Bunces, Hornblowers, Goodbodies, Tooks, Sackvilles, Proudfoots, Grubbs, and Chubbs.

“Today is Bilbo’s thirty-third birthday!”

“Somebody, kill me now,” Bilbo muttered, wincing at the slaps on his back.

One of his uncles had decided it appropriate to seize his shoulders and shake him, and his head bobbed violently.

Bungo went on, one embarrassing tale in Bilbo’s childhood after the other earning laughter, endearing from the elders and mocking from those who knew Bilbo and he would find no pity from them.

He tried to sink into his seat, aiming to disappear entirely. He’d manage to do so if so many eyes weren’t on him. Bilbo settled for drinking as much ale as he could. Finally, the speech had ended and the dancing picked up again. Bilbo continued to drown his embarrassment away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bungo demanded, lifting him off his seat. “Go dance!”

“I’d rather not.”

“Now, now, it’s your birthday. You’re of age now. Have fun.”

“I can have fun right here,” he said, raising his tankard and smirking. “See.”

He drank its contents and jumped onto a table. He did not swallow, picking up a torch from the nearest stand and spat into the fire, startling Hobbits around him with the fire-breathing performance. Once the shock ebbed, Bilbo bowed to his cheering audience.

Bungo hid his face in a hand, shaking his head and Belladonna laughed, pulling her husband away and onto the dance floor.

Despite the younger Hobbits urging him for a repeat performance, Bilbo decided to take the chance to escape the party, running for the woods along the Brandywine.

He turned around to see where the party continued, shrill, happy music screaming into the night and torch light illuminating the area around the Party Tree.

Bilbo sniffed and turned around. A fist he could not see collided into his cheek and he fell onto his bum. Bungo leaned against the tree, appearing out of thin air, smirking smugly.

“You bastard…” Bilbo growled, rubbing his cheek.

“Running off in the middle of your own party is bad taste. You know this.”

Bilbo stood, still rubbing his cheek.

“And I should give a damn _why_?”

“Because,” Bungo sighed with an air of long-suffering patience. “You’re a Baggins.”

“Right,” Bilbo scoffed, “As if that _really_ means anything special. We’re fakes, Dad, so why bother?”

Bungo sighed. “You’re Tookishness is going to be the death of you one of these days—that _and_ your temper.”

Bilbo crossed his arms, glaring at his father.

Bungo only chuckled, “Eager to get going.”

“I don’t see the point in holding a party when the _real_ thing is to rob someone.”

“Do you have a target in mind?”

“Erm…I do, but you’d not approve.”

“Then why not choose someone I would approve of?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Bilbo, it’s not _meant_ to be fun. It’s your job and it dangerous.”

“So I’m not supposed to enjoy robbing some rich pig blind? I was thinking big.”

“When you’re older and more experienced you can go big.”

“C’mon! No one’s dared to go after the treasure of Erebor—”

“That’s _too_ big,” Bungo said, “No one’s fool enough to rob that line of Kings.”

“Exactly,” Bilbo exclaimed, “They’re lax.”

“They’re anything _but_.” Bungo closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. “Bilbo, the line of Durin is a strong family of Kings. They are not without their shortcomings. Several generations have fallen mad. However, the current King of Erebor is _not_ mad. He will not be tricked and to rob him under his very nose is as bad an idea as any. He’s a warrior and politician; extremely violent and shrewd. If you are caught, Thorin Oakenshield _will_ kill you.”

“Only if I’m caught,” Bilbo snapped. “And the ring will enable me to go unseen. You know that. So…regardless whether or not you think I can handle it or not, I’m going after King Thorin’s most prized possession.”

“No. Yes, you are to inherit the ring tonight, but you forget that the ring is dangerous. It’s a mind of its own and it _will_ betray you if you are not careful with it.”

“Dad, it’s a ring of invisibility. That wives’ take doesn’t scare me.”

“It’s not a wives’ tale and it should.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Well, if I die, I’ll admit you were right.”

“Bilbo—”

“I’m going to Erebor,” he smirked. “And you can’t stop me.”

“Do you want to test me?”

“I’ve been able to break out of all your locks and traps before. It’ll be nothing new.”

Bungo sighed deeply. He seized Bilbo’s hand and placed the ring into his palm.

“It will _try_ to take over you, Lad, if you’re not careful. It will _try_ to ruin you. So always— _always—_ be on your guard when you use the ring. And use it sparingly. If you can get in and out without it then do so.”

Bilbo’s fingers curled around the ring.

“Okay.”

“And if you’re still set on this insane task of robbing Erebor, you’re going to need it and pray it’s on your side.” Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes, settling for nodding at his father again. Bungo grinned. “Good lad. Not get your butt back to the party.”


	2. Chapter 2

~Two Months Later~

Bilbo climbed into the cart, waiting to get past the guards.

The driver was halted and the back of the cart opened, shaking under the weight of the two armored Dwarves. Bilbo slid the ring on. He’d not get past them otherwise.

 “All good,” a Dwarf shouted and they climbed out. The cart rolled into the mountain, and he slid out, landing silently on his toes. It seemed odd being somewhere the sun does not reach properly.

Bilbo rubbed his nose. He tugged his hood over his head and slid into the crowd and removed his ring.

If anyone thought he had appeared pulled out of the air, no one said anything. Crowds could confuse people and it was the best place to remove the ring from without attracting attention.

_Now where is the palace?_

Bilbo slipped around laughing guards, nibbling his lip. He crossed his arms, drumming his fingers against one.

_I should probably look for someone important. Hopefully they’ll be important enough to meet with the King soon._

His eyes scanned the crowd, seeking out someone who may be nobility. They’d be rounder, better fed, fuller bearded, stronger looking, fancier clothed—

 _Or they could be Elves_ , he thought, spying the graceful, tall breed walking through the crowd, which parted for them as they passed. He doubted Elves came to Dwarf kingdoms unless they had to see a Dwarf king.

Bilbo followed the entourage of Elves away from the marketplace, keeping to the shadows. They climbed up a great flight of stairs and Bilbo slipped the Ring back on. One of the Elves paused, turning around. Was he sensed?

The Elf frowned and turned away from him, mumbling something in Sindarin and continued up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, Bilbo slid back into the shadows, watching the Elves enter through a great door. He ran in after them and kept close to the shadows again.

The hall was dark and empty. A bridge led to a stone throne. Beside it was a smaller throne meant for the King’s spouse. Two Dwarves were there.

One seated in the large throne, hair black as the night sky and eyes the shade of the Brandywine River. He wore royal blue velvet and a wolf pelt. A gold and silver crown adorned his head. (It could, Bilbo decided, be Mithril instead of silver.)

Bilbo couldn’t blame him for wearing furs. It was cold and had begun to snow outside the mountain.

The Dwarf beside him was as light as the King was dark. His yellow hair fell past his shoulders in many intricate braids. Rather than blue, he wore red, though the pelt he adorned over his shoulders seemed to come from perhaps a brother wolf.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” the Elf who had sensed Bilbo said. His voice was deep and regal.

“What brings you back so soon after your last visit, Thranduil?” Thorin asked, snarling. Bilbo wondered if Elves and Dwarves knew how to being proper conversations…Probably not.

“Have we not fought enough?” the Elf, Thranduil, began. “Have we battled too little and for what reason? I bring a token of good will.”

He snapped his fingers and another Elf approached bowing to the Dwarf King, a box in his hands.

Thorin stared at the box, seemingly uninterested, though the other tilted his head curiously. “What is it?”

“A gift for you to keep,” Thranduil said. “Regardless how well our talk goes.”

Thorin stood and took it, opening the box. He blinked, emotionless, and closed it, looking up. “All right, I’ll listen to what you have to say, and then I will speak. After that, _leave_ my mountain.”

“Agreed,” Thranduil said with a small smirk.

Bilbo did not listen after that, eyes finding his target. The Arkenstone rested in a hole carved into the throne. He tiptoed around the Elves and hid behind the throne, licking his lips. His body thrummed with excitement. He’d wait until they were gone and then he’d take the jewel and be on his way. An hour passed before he heard the doors creak open and close again.

“Fili, where is Kili?”

“Training, most likely,” he said.

“Go join him. I’ll meet you there soon.”

“All right, Uncle.” Bilbo’s heart raced. Will Thorin not leave so he can pull his heist? When the door closed a second time, he knew it was just him and the King. He heard a click and a sigh.

_Forget this!_

Bilbo climbed up the back of the throne, bending over the top while he kept one foot on the stone beam supporting the chair, and one knee propped on the edge of it. He could just barely grab the stone, fingers circling around it for a—

_Ah-ha!_

Bilbo lifted a finger away from the stone, ready to press a button.

The ring fell off his finger, bouncing off Thorin’s shoulder into the box the Elves had just given him. Thorin’s head looked up, eyes meeting Bilbo’s.

 _Oh shit,_ Bilbo thought.

Thorin stood, seizing Bilbo’s wrist before Bilbo could think of an escape plan that included taking the Arkenstone and getting the ring back. He was pinned to the ground, arm twisted behind his back.

“Who are you?” Thorin demanded. “Did Thranduil send you to rob me?”

“No!” Bilbo snapped. “And I don’t have to tell you shit. Get off!”

“And let you get away so you could try and rob me again? I don’t think so!” He pulled Bilbo up, slamming him against the throne. “Now tell me who and what you are! You’re no Elf, nor are you a Dwarf or a Man. What are you?”

Bilbo knew he’d regret it, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He spat in his face.

The King jumped off, wiping his face with his sleeve, giving Bilbo time to get his ring and he’d have to settle for whatever it was that the Elves gave Thorin. He slid the ring back on and ran for the door.

“GUARDS!!!”

The door burst open and Bilbo mentally thanked Thorin for giving him the way out. While the Kingdom went mad trying to look for him, Bilbo perched himself on a ledge and opened the box.

Within was a small knife with a jeweled handle. It was silver with a steel blade. Bilbo tested it. Well balanced, rather sharp, small enough to conceal…either a throwing knife or a letter opener. Most likely, it was the latter. A throwing knife would be lighter and less likely to break.

“He couldn’t have just disappeared!”

Bilbo turned toward the sound. Thorin was yelling at a burly guard whose head was bald and tattooed.

 _Odd place for tattoos_ , Bilbo mused.

“I want him found, thrown in the dungeon—and then I will interrogate him myself!”

“This odd little burglar you think you saw—”

“I know what I saw, Dwalin! I’m not losing my mind!” Bilbo chuckled to himself.

“Put extra security around the palace.”

“What about the Arkenstone?”

“What do I care for it? The real one is protected.”

Bilbo’s smile faded. _What?_

“Well, hey, at least the thief didn’t make off with a piece of fancy glass…”

“Laugh all you want. He’s after the Arkenstone.”

“If he exists, he won’t _get_ the Arkenstone. No one knows the one in the throne room is fake except for the royal family and those close to them,” the guard named Dwalin said.

 _Not anymore_ , Bilbo thought, his smirk returning. So he could still steal the Arkenstone.

“What’d he look like anyway, this disappearing robber?”

“Like an Elf but smaller with big hairy feet. I’ve never seen a creature like that before!” Thorin sighed. “What’s odd is that I’ve seen many creatures and know of their beauty…”

“A pretty burglar? Was it a female?”

“No. It was clearly male.” Thorin crossed his arms. “Double the guards on the vault, just in case.”

“Fine, fine. I still think you’re just overworked, Thorin. Go rest.”

Thorin sighs shakily. “Very well. I’ll go rest.” Dwalin claps the King’s shoulder and walks away. Bilbo slides off the ledge he had set himself on, following Thorin. He didn’t seem to be the one to rest when feeling pressured or anxious. Thorin Oakenshield was a worrier.

Worriers are easier targets than they think. He leads Bilbo straight to the Arkenstone.

“Is it safe?”

“No one passes through these doors without us knowing, Sire,” a guard says, opening it for Thorin.

Bilbo follows him inside. Now that Bilbo sees the real stone, he is annoyed for not seeing that the one in the throne room was a fake.

Thorin left the room and as his back was turned, Bilbo grabbed the stone, pocketing it. Thorin did not turn back to look, and Bilbo followed him out, grinning at the King’s back.

Bilbo knew he’d have to get out _tonight_ before Thorin realized he had led his invisible burglar right to the treasure which was being threatened.

When he did, he’d scream and rant and rave and probably search for it. But would he dare realize what Bilbo was? Bilbo doubted it. Hobbits remained in Eriador and this was as far as one had ever gone.

Bilbo knew he’d have to be extra careful for a few years before Thorin gave up searching in order to come this far into the East again.

 _Still_ , Bilbo thought, parting ways with the King, _I won._

He glanced at Thorin once more to see the King fiddling with something on his finger—and then he was looking right at Bilbo.

“So I was right,” Thorin hissed. “It was an enchanted ring.”

“How did you—”

Thorin held out his hand where a signet ring glimmered in the strange glow surrounding them. “I’ve one as well, you fool.”


	3. Chapter 3

His quarry confiscated from him, along with the ring, Bilbo was dragged, kicking and screaming, to the dungeons. The guards chain him to a wall and he is left there. They sneer at him.

He calmed down, testing the shackles. He might be able to slip them…if he had a way to reach his lock picks…if he still _had_ his lock picks. Bilbo slumped, sighing. He could wait for the jailor to get close enough, but he hadn’t enough patience for that.

“What’re you in for?”

Bilbo looks around, searching for the voice. It’s to his left and he hears rattling. “I still don’t see you.”

“Yeah…that’s the problem with not getting the nice spot. Dwalin must like you.”

“The King himself caught me, actually. Not sure whether to be miffed or proud of that.”

The Dwarf snorts. “Nori son of Kori, Master Thief.”

“Bilbo Baggins—”

“ _The Burglar_?”

“Well…no, I think you’re mistaking me for my great-grandfather Balbo. That was his title and I…tried to outdo him. Didn’t go as planned, as you can see.”

“Indeed. The King himself caught you, eh?”

“He did. And he’s got my things. Not sure I should be honored I got a public feel up or not.”

“Well, he’s a good looking Dwarf…I just get stuck with Dwalin half the time I’m caught—which is rare, mind—but at least when he feels _me_ up, it’s never public.”

“So I should feel embarrassed, then. Great. Dad’s going to kill me if the king doesn’t do so first.”

“Eh…you didn’t succeed, and you’re not one of his subjects…he’ll probably not do anything.”

“Really?” Bilbo hoped he didn’t sound hopeful. Nori laughed.

“No. He’s going to rip you to shreds for daring to steal from him.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Well, until your execution, it was nice knowing you.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“And if I weren’t tied up, I’d probably be willing to make your last night in Middle Earth worth it.” Nori clicked his tongue suggestively.

“Glad to know that under certain circumstances I’d not die a virgin…”

Nori didn’t answer for a while. “Now I want to cry. No ladies or lads who caught your eye?”

“No. Not really. Couple lads, but being an only son means I need a woman so to continue the line even if I don’t find them appealing. Besides, the lads I liked went for girls more than boys anyway.”

“Ah. Family pressures. And that is just sad. You’re comely enough.”

“At least I won’t have to worry about that anymore. And thank you.”

“Lucky you. Thankfully I’ve two brothers to keep the family line going…”

“Are they nice?”

“My younger brother is. My big brother’s a nasty Billy-goat.”

Bilbo snorted. “At least you’ve got brothers.”

“True.”

“You think my death will be quick?”

“Maybe. If he likes you enough it will be.”

“Then I hope he likes me because I’d really rather not die painfully, you know.”

“Ha! Maybe he’ll be extra merciful!”

A guard slammed his club into the bars, glaring at them before walking away.

“How rude,” Bilbo muttered.

“Uncouth the lot of them,” Nori agreed. “Guards. Yeesh! Is it so bad to have better lodgings? It stinks of piss and shit in here!”

“Is that what… _ew…_ ”

“What’d you think it was?”

“A foul, strong smelling ale…I had hoped. Yavanna, that’s disgusting! I stepped in pee! Ew! I’m barefoot, you bastards! Why’d you drag me into such an unsanitary place?!”

“We demand better lodgings!” Nori shouted.

“With a proper toilet!” Bilbo added.

“And beds!”

“And heaters in winter!”

“And privacy for when we need to shit and piss!”

“Especially privacy! And be allowed to feed ourselves!” Bilbo tugged on the chains. “I mean, are these really necessary when you’ve already got us behind iron bars?”

“I like the way you think, Baggins. Should we add the right to have booty calls?”

Bilbo looked in Nori’s direction with wide eyes. “I thought we were going to be each other’s booty call…”

“As much as I love you I cannot get too attached.”

“Fair enough…wait, what if this is actually a sex torture dungeon?”

“Then somehow I’ve been missing out and I can’t fathom why. But these _are_ kind of kinky.” Nori’s chains rattled and Bilbo snorted. “Huh. Now I get why they like chaining us to the wall.”

“It’s a logical explanation and if it’s true, then I forgive them. Must be sad being unable to get a lay.”

Nori roared with laughter. Another club slammed against the door. The guard glowers at them.

“I’d hold your tongues, lads,” he growled. “The King intends to speak to you.”

“Just tell him to mind where he steps,” Bilbo said. “It’d be sad to lose a pair of shoes from standing too long in pee.”

The guard smirks. “You really think the King would deem to come _here_ , you fool?”

“No, but it’d be nice, I mean, doesn’t make much sense locking me up only to release me…does it?”

The guard shrugs. Bilbo turns in Nori’s direction. “I like this one. He at least talks to us.”

“True, true,” Nori agreed, humming. “But the guards have never really been a kindly bunch, likeable or not.”

Another guard comes, whispering in the first’s ear the door opens and Bilbo is released.

“Oh, finally!” he kicks one’s shin and pokes the other in the eyes before running.

“Run, Burglar, run! Into the wind with you!”

Bilbo half wanted to stop and bow toward the dungeon, even if Nori couldn’t see him now. He resisted the urge, knowing it was best to find a hiding spot, lay low, find his things and hightail it out of Erebor before—

An arm seized him around the middle. “Aren’t you the king’s thief?”

“Um…”

“Master Dwalin! Oh, thank Mahal, he’s been caught!”

“We were to take him to the King, but he…”

“I can guess what happened. Clap him in irons and take him to the King.” Bilbo groaned. Today was just _not_ his day. He must have embarrassed the family name at some point in his youth and _this_ was his punishment for it. How, he could not say, but he was _not_ going to let some angry ancestor have its way!

Bilbo kicked and flayed, trying to squirm out of the guard’s grasp.

“Bastard’s got kangaroo feet!” One growled, after a well placed kick to the nose. Bilbo relished the pleasure of having caused some pain, but the shackles were tight on his wrists and ankles and he was carried like a full burlap sack to a room—not the throne room, he noted.

It was a parlor of sorts.

“Brought him,” Dwalin said. “He’s a wild one. Broke Náli’s nose.”

Thorin stood. “Set him on his feet.” Dwalin did so and Bilbo scowled at Thorin. “So this is the descendant of the Burglar.”

Bilbo bit his tongue to keep from asking how Thorin knew, glaring at the King.

“You’re family has caused a lot of pain to my cousins in the past, Burglar.” Bilbo smirked, sticking his tongue out. He could feel Dwalin’s hand. Thorin stayed it. “He’s young, Dwalin. And impertinent. And yet I’ve need of _all_ his wits.”

“I came of age two months ago, you know.”

“That does not excuse your recklessness.” Bilbo rolled his eyes. “How about a truce, Burglar?”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. There is something I require holed up in an enemy’s land. I would hire you to steal it for me and when you return you’ll be handsomely rewarded. You’re current crimes against Erebor will be wiped clean and you will be free to return home with your payment.”

“But my task is to steal the Arkenstone from you, my lord,” Bilbo said, tilting his head to the side.

Thorin removed Bilbo’s family ring from his pocket. “Stealing the Arkenstone from me is equivalent to stealing _this_ from you. As the Arkenstone is a precious heirloom to me, I am under the impression this ring holds the same value to you and your family.”

Bilbo ground his teeth. “I suppose it’s a fair trade then. What do you want me to steal?”

“In the Misty Mountains, deep in the heart of Moria, there is a tome bound in red leather. Find it and bring it to me.”

“And if I fail?”

“It won’t matter, then, because Moria is overrun by Orcs and taking the mountain back has been a failure.”

“So you want me to sneak into an Orc and Goblin infested layer, find a bloody book, and get out?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I have my ring back then?”

“You can have it back when you and your team leave.”

“Team?”

“You can bring with you two Dwarves of your choosing.”

Bilbo hummed. “Well, I got one in mind.”

“Who?”

“Funny fellow in the dungeons,” Bilbo said, “Calls himself Nori.”

“Thorin,” Dwalin growled, “I advise against that.”

“Very well,” Thorin said, “Nori can go with you. Choose your other team member wisely.”

“You just condemned this thing to death.”

“Then I’ll just bring you,” Bilbo grinned up at Dwalin. “You can keep us both alive. Good luck with that.”

“You sure you want to bring Nori and Dwalin with you?” Thorin asked, crossing his arms. Dwalin sputtered, outraged.

Bilbo’s smirk reached his ears. “Yep.”

“Very well.”

“Thorin!”


	4. Chapter 4

~One Month Later~

They stood at the bottom of the Silvertine Cliffs, waiting for night to fall. Dwalin leaned against a tree, arms crossed over his chest and sparing both Nori and Bilbo dark glares.

“You’re sure this is it?” Bilbo asked him.

“West entrance, closest to the library, beneath the Silvertine, will show up in the light of the moon and stars,” Dwalin said. “My brother wouldn’t lie to us, Halfling.”

“I’m not accusing anyone of falsehoods,” Bilbo assured him. “And ‘Halfling’ is racist. My people are _Hobbits_. You’d do well to remember that. Next time, I might slit your throat.”

Nori snickered, sending his best shit-eating grin at Dwalin. Hopefully he wouldn’t call Bilbo’s bluff. Murderers had no honor, after all, and he wasn’t about to let himself lose his honor over ignorant words from an ignorant Dwarf.

Nori yawned, stretching. “So,” he said. “It’s all down to good weather now?”

“Sadly,” Bilbo said, swinging himself up a tree. “So let’s hope the Valar are on our side.”

“Oh, sure, stealing a book right from under Orcs’ noses,” Dwalin snorted. “That’ll be blessed by whatever god you live by.”

“I’m sure Orcs give a rat’s ass about a book,” Nori said.

“No. They do about food, though.”

The trio paused at those words. Bilbo shivered. He didn’t want to think about it. He cleared his throat. “It’ll be night soon. In the meantime, I think we shouldn’t think about Orcs. I may not believe in luck, but I’d rather not chance it.”

#

Bilbo glared at bright door. Partially because it was actually hurting his eyes which had gotten used to the darkness of night. Mostly because he couldn’t figure out how to open it any better than Nori or Dwalin. Dwalin had to be stopped from ramming into the door. No stealth, that one.

_Ennyn Durin Aran Moria._

_Pedo Mellon a Minno._

_Im Narvi hain echant._

_Celebrimbor o Eregion teithant i thiw hin_

Bilbo scratched his chin. _The doors of Durin lord of Moria. Speak friend and enter…_

“There’s no keyhole,” Nori muttered, his voice rising an octave in his frustration. Cursing, Dwalin rammed his shoulder into it. Nori slapped the back of his head. “You want to bring the Orcs on us?”

“I’m _trying_ to open the door, Thief.”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?”

Bilbo wished they’d shut up. _No keyhole, can’t be budged by brute force, speak friend and enter, speak…speak…we’re all idiots._

“What’s Dwarfish for ‘friend’?” Bilbo asked. Nori and Dwalin stared at him. He sighed. “Some doors require passwords. You need only know it. This one nearly gives it away, so what is Dwarfish for ‘friend’?”

“ _Bâh_ ,” Nori said. The doors didn’t budge. “ _Bâhel_?” Still nothing. “ _Bâhith. Bâhûn. Bâhinh_.”

“Maybe it’s plural?” Dwalin suggested.

“Or it’s not Dwarfish,” Nori said.

“In which case,” Bilbo said. “Whoever made the doors are geniuses or we are idiots. _Mellon_.” The doors creaked open and Bilbo smiled smugly at his companions. “Elfish, bitches,” he taunted.

“That actually makes sense,” Dwalin muttered. “Khuzdul is supposed to be secret.”

“You’re just mad you didn’t figure it out,” Bilbo said, smirking at him as Dwalin found a torch to light. “So, did your brilliant brother have any other directions? Such as how to find the library?”

 “He had his apprentice draw a map from some old prints,” Dwalin said, handing the lit torch to Nori and reaching for his bag. He handed Bilbo a folded piece of parchment and Bilbo stood close to the torch in order to read it. Bilbo traced their route with a finger and led them into the dark caverns.

The torch light only did so much good as a light. Bilbo half wished fire did not crackle so much. Each pop made him and his companions wince, searching the dark for Orcs or Goblins. Who knows how long they tiptoed in the dark with fire being their only light and warmth.

Nori clicked his tongue after only the Valar could tell how long. “Can I see the map?”

Bilbo stood beside him, holding it out. Nori scanned it and turned sharply to the left. Bilbo and Dwalin followed him before they stood before broken doors. Nori looked around, waving the torch. He strode to a wall and felt it. Bilbo heard him spit.

Firelight spread through the walls, lighting the room. Large stone shelves rose to the ceiling. They could make out tattered drapes covering the windows which fluttered in the wind. The broken, dust covered desks lay abandoned and the books—oh the books!—all dusty, leather bound tomes.

Bilbo grinned and squeezed Nori’s shoulder. “Let’s find that book.”

#

Three days.

It was gross.

It was dusty.

It was making Bilbo come down with something horrendous.

And _still_ they had not found the book. To make it worse, they’d nearly been caught by Orc patrols. Twice. Bilbo and Nori had to stop Dwalin both times from attacking them. He and Nori got into another fight in which Nori had to explain in detail why killing them would be a bad idea.

Warriors. All honor and muscles. No smarts. Killing Orcs could possibly bring more upon them and they’d _never_ get out with or without the book if that happened.

They were lucky the Orcs didn’t see the fires coming in from the light, they muttered about it, true, but passed on as though it was of little consequence.

Did orcs know how to read? Bilbo doubted it, but then again, he knew very little of Orcs and he’d like to keep it that way.

As for the _book_ itself…

They found several books bound in red leather hides, but _none_ were the Red Book Thorin wanted and there was only so much room Bilbo had in his own bag. They couldn’t take them all. Especially the ones which were so decayed, they were all useless.

“It has to be here somewhere,” Dwalin whispered, searching a shelf.

“Yes, but _where_ would a book like that be kept?” Bilbo asked. “Any ideas?”

Dwalin shrugged, his hands hitting his thighs and he collapsed in a rickety chair which, thankfully, didn’t break under his weight. Bilbo leaned against a pillar. His nose was stuffed horribly and his head swam. Oh, he was ill, indeed, and hoped it was just a cold. He could deal with a cold.

Nori approached, appearing like a specter in the shadows. Bilbo wasn’t startled, but Dwalin didn’t notice.

“I think I found it.”

Dwalin jumped up, reaching for his axes. He lowered his hands. “Damn it, Nori, don’t _do_ that!”

“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. Come on.”

They followed Nori deep into the library until they stood before a round amphitheater. On a pillar and encased in glass was a red book.

“Think that might be it?” Nori asked.

“Oh, it’s definitely it,” Bilbo said, grinning. “Most _definitely_ it.” He knelt down, picking up a pebble and tossing it into the amphitheater. Nothing. Bilbo stepped into the ring gingerly. He examined the glass. It was sealed to the pillar with iron. Typical.

Bilbo pulled out a glass cutter and pressed the sharp blade against it.

“How long will this take?” Dwalin asked.

“As long as it needs to,” Bilbo said. He smirked at him. “You can’t these things.”

“He’s right. Rushing is a surefire way of getting caught,” Nori said. Dwalin muttered curses under his breath which Bilbo ignored, twisting the cutter into circles, slowly scratching the glass.

“Forget this,” Dwalin growled, marching over and wrapping his hand in his cloak.

“No, no, no!!” Bilbo shouted. The glass shattered with a resounding _ping._ Dwalin picked up the book and handed it to Bilbo.

“Easier, faster, and now, we can get out of these caves.”

“You idiot,” Nori hissed.

“What have you done?”

“I got us the bloody book,” Dwalin snapped.

“And probably brought down all of Moria on us too!” Bilbo took the book and put it in his bag. “We have to run.”

Dwalin growled at him. “Don’t be ridiculous—”

A steady beat echoed off the walls. The trio exchanged looks and ran for the door. An arrow barley missed Nori’s nose.

“Fuck!”

“Shut the doors!” Dwalin ordered. They forced the broken doors closed, barricading it with a table. Bilbo reached for his grappling hook, trying once, twice…

He cursed. “Nori! I can’t reach the windows here!”

Nori took the hook, swinging it in his hand.

“They’re breaking in,” Dwalin shouted. Bilbo cursed, reaching into his bag and pulling out a stone ball with a wick poking out the top. “What is that?” Dwalin asked. Bilbo grinned.

“A little invention made by my family. I’ve got about five of these. We should only need one.”

“I got it,” Nori said.

“Go!” Bilbo shouted at Dwalin.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right up!” Dwalin looked from the door to the rope Nori was already scaling. “ _Go_!!” Bilbo shouted at him. Dwalin ran for the rope, climbing up after Nori.

Bilbo approached a wall, lighting the wick as the door broke open. He threw the ball and ran for the rope, He scaled it with ease, managing to escape the blast.

Dwalin was pressed against the wall, eyes closed and muttering. Nori and Bilbo grinned at each other.

“You have to show me how to make those,” Nori said as they dropped a rope down the side. “What are they anyway?”

“It was a boom,” Bilbo said.

“A boom?” Nori asked. Bilbo nodded. “Aptly named.”

“Can we get down off this ledge before we fall to our deaths?” Dwalin asked.

“Keep your dusters on,” Bilbo said, readjusting the hook and tying another length of rope to the end. Nori included his own rope, for good measure. Bilbo coughed and his head swam.

His vision swam and all went black.

“ _Bilbo!!_ ”


	5. Chapter 5

He woke staring at the sky above him. His head pounded as hard and deep as the Orc drums and his breathing was off. A hand cradled his head and a shadow loomed over him, pressing the lip of a water skin to his lips.

“C’mon, Bilbo, drink,” Nori said. He obeyed, taking a few sips.

“What happened?”

“You passed out,” Nori said. “From the looks of it, you have a fever and have had one for a few days.”

Bilbo hummed. “It must’ve been the dust in the library,” he said. “Added to altitude sickness, maybe…oh, my head.”

“Want a little more water?”

“I’d rather have tea,” Bilbo said, “But I’ll settle for water, thanks.” After a few more sips, Bilbo crossed his legs, holding his head in his hands. “How long was I out?”

“We managed to get down the mountain without too much trouble,” Dwalin said. “Would’ve been easier if you didn’t faint.”

“I’m sure. Sadly, I’m not exactly in control of when I do or do not pass out. I apologize for the inconvenience my _cold_ has done you.”

Nori hushed him, glaring at Dwalin. “When your head feels better, we’ll head back to Erebor. In the meantime, you need to drink as much water as you can.”

Bilbo groaned, closing his eyes, unable to coherently think past, _By the Green Lady, my head feels like an anvil and weighs the same as an anvil and I can’t breathe and great mother my_ throat _is on fire._

Okay, maybe it was a little more than a cold. Bilbo drank some more water and ate cram softened by boiled water. It was a bit gross, but he managed it. After he ate, consciousness left him again.

#

Bilbo passed in and out for about two days, only knowing this because of Nori. Each time he woke, Nori or Dwalin would make him drink as much water as he was able, and eat something, no matter how small. By nightfall on the second day, Bilbo was feeling a little better and guessed it would only improve from there.

By the fourth day, the pounding in his head had vanished and he spent the time flipping through the book. Dwalin would glare and if he didn’t like Bilbo looking through it that was his problem. Bilbo couldn’t read the book anyway, just look through it.

He wished he could read it, though. The illustrations and diagrams, portraits of kings long dead left Bilbo fascinated and enraptured.

“You’re going to give yourself a headache again, scowling like that,” Nori said.

“Oh?” Bilbo asked. He sighed. “I kind of wish I could read this. I understand I’m not allowed to read it let alone speak it, but it’d be nice to know what is in this book.”

“At least you can read,” Nori said. Bilbo’s neck nearly snapped when he turned to stare at Nori.

“You’re illiterate?” he asked. “I thought your brother was a scribe.”

“He is, but that doesn’t mean I know how to read,” Nori said.

“Would you like to learn?”

“Nah,” Nori said, waving him off. “I don’t need to know how to read in order to do my job. Except maybe maps. I’m quite skilled with those. My brother Ori, though, very smart and creative lad. Almost a shame that he’s a scribe, but he writes novels on the side. Adventure novels. His works’ popular with children.”

“Good for him.”

Nori chuckled. “Yeah, we’re all quite proud. Dori especially.” He lay on his side, staring at the flames.

“You miss them?”

Nori shrugged. “It’s hard to miss what’s not yours.”

#

The Hobbit had wiggled his way into his head and he couldn’t fathom how he’d done it. Thorin couldn’t find any reason for Bilbo Baggins, the infamous _Burglar_ , to have any reason to worm his way into Thorin’s head as much as he did.

His blue-green eyes, taunting and shining with the brilliance of finely cut aquamarine, haunted his nights and the first rays of sunlight that filtered into his rooms reminded him of the way light shone on the bronze-gold curls of his hair. His tongue was forked and sharp but the voice that shaped the weapons Bilbo’s words became was like the morning bells, demanding the people to wake up, commanding and yet familiar at the same time.

But _why_ would the Hobbit have such an effect on him? _Him?_ Thorin was a king and the Hobbit was one of the most notorious criminals he heard of.

Thorin shook his head. _No,_ he told himself. _He is not the Burglar. The Burglar wouldn’t have been caught so easily._ Thorin leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in its cup. _He’s too young, besides. The Burglar has been around for decades. It’s not possible…_

He finished his drink and stood, leaving the cup on the table as he strode out of the room and to the raven house.

“Any word from Dwalin?” he asked. Roac ruffled his feathers.

“No,” he said. “Not since they entered.”

“Send someone to go back and check on them, then,” Thorin demanded. Roac snapped his beak at Thorin’s fingers.

“You’d do well to remember we aren’t your _pets_ , Dwarf. You and I are equals and we only _aid_ you out of the goodness of our hearts. Think of it this way: if not for us, you may have to deal with _pigeons_. So remember that next time you decide to be rude.”

Thorin shook his head. “I’m worried, that’s all. They’ve been gone a long time.”

“Is it the tiny, big-footed one? I like him. He’s funny _and_ polite. Nothing like you brusque Dwarves.” The ravens cawed around him, laughing.

“We are _not_ brusque!” Thorin snapped. “And I don’t _care_ about the Hobbit. He’s just… _carrying_ something of import to me. Once he gets it.”

“You’re voice hitched and the spots in your eyes got bigger and your pheromones are going nuts,” Roac noted. The raven tilted his head to the side. “Is he your mate?”

“I don’t even know him. So no, he’s not. I would appreciate it if you were less _brusque_ yourself, Roac.”

Roac ruffled his feathers again. “Well you _want_ him to be your mate. I’ll send someone to check on them. In the meantime, stop molting. You’ll make everyone else molt and then you’ll be more worried about how to clean up all your feathers.”

As brilliant as ravens were, they didn’t seem to grasp that _hair_ and _feathers_ were different. And Thorin didn’t molt. The indignity of it! He bade the birds goodbye and descended the steps back to the main floor of the palace, arms crossed over his chest.

Roac may be impertinent, but he was never wrong nor did he like to lie. Yet Thorin was stubborn, he didn’t like to admit anything and he would _never_ admit until he was absolutely certain that he fancied the Hobbit. Oh, it was no lie that he found him beautiful in a very _exotic_ way…

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose.

_He couldn’t be my One. He isn’t my One._

#

Guards bound Bilbo’s hands and feet, as well as Nori’s when they returned.

He didn’t see why that was necessary. He was being paid, after all, and he made his displeasure known to Thorin when he was brought before the King again. Thorin circled around him, unblinking.

“I did what you asked,” Bilbo reminded him. “The book’s in the bag.” Thorin picked up the leather bag and opened it. He pulled the book out and flipped through the pages. “Tell me it’s the right one. I’m not keen on going back to Moria to _find_ it.”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t send you back if you failed me,” Thorin said, closing the book. “You’d just never be able to go home, rotting in my dungeon.”

Bilbo shook his head. “You’re a right bastard, you know that?”

Thorin smirked. “I do. Lucky for you, though, you got the right book.”

“Oh, joy,” Bilbo muttered. “I kept my end of the bargain. You promised to release me and give me back my ring.”

“Yes, you will be pardoned for attempting to steal the Arkenstone,” Thorin said, setting the book down. “But I never said I’d let you go.”

Bilbo furrowed his brow and blinked, unsure he heard right. “What?”

“I said, you’ll be pardoned, but I’ve no intention of letting you go.”

“We had a deal!”

“Things change,” Thorin said. “I need something else which requires your skill set. There are a… _set_ of golden bottles. They belong to the Elvenking.”

“Isn’t he your neighbor? You have enough gold to buy some pretty bottles with.”

“I’ve tried. He won’t give them up. Within them is the finest Dorwinion wine.”

“You want me to steal _alcohol_ from an _Elf_." Bilbo huffed, glaring at the king. "One, that’s insulting to my craft. Two, I’m not doing it. Not because I can’t but because I’m not stupid enough to make another deal with someone who double crosses me.”

“Then you can go back to the dungeons because I won’t pardon you.”

Bilbo gaped at him. His blood boiled and the idea of taking the Red Book back just to bash Thorin’s head in with it was an admittedly appealing fantasy. Especially if it wiped that smirk off the king’s face. Bilbo half wanted to believe that he was just being toyed with, but he forced himself to take a breath.

“Fine, I'll steal the damn bottles. But it’s not my fault if you start a skirmish with your Elven neighbors.”

“Agreed.”

“This time, I want my payment and my freedom. Next time you dishonor a deal with me, I _will_ make you regret it.”

“I wonder how. You’re just a thief. Murder’s beneath you, let alone regicide.”

 _Oh, I want to strangle him!_ Bilbo thought, fingers flexing. “Sometimes there’s an exception, you’re _nibs_.”

Thorin called for the guards, ordering that Bilbo be given a guest room in the palace and that the shackles be removed. The pardoning would happen in the morning.

But Bilbo couldn’t sleep, clawing at his sheets and wondering if he’d ever go home.


	6. Chapter 6

_Dearest mother and father,_

_I hope this letter reaches you in good health._

_My trip has experienced some unexpected adventures I would love to tell you about. I’ve not found a souvenir worthy of father yet, though I’ve found an excellent set of combs for mother. (It is enclosed in the package. I hope you like them, Mother.)_

_I hope to be back soon, but it may take a few weeks longer than I thought, though I will come home as soon as I possibly can._

_The East is a very rich place._

_Sincerely,_

_Bilbo Baggins._

He sealed the letter in wax and sent it off with a raven, wondering how long it would take for Dad to get down here and flay him alive for screwing up so royally! But he couldn’t stay here much longer without anyone thinking he had died. He had to give them some semblance of hope that he still lived.

Even if it wasn’t going to be for very long.

Bilbo wanted to get the wine and go, but Thorin was being…difficult about it. He insisted (read: _demanded_ ) that Bilbo stay a few days “to recover” from Moria. He even knew he got sick while there.

Bilbo guessed Dwalin had told him and made a point to try shaving Dwalin’s beard off for that.

He bade goodbye to Roac and the rest of the flock before leaving the raven’s roost.

The king, Bilbo decided, was off. Odd. Weird. Strange. Creepy. Take your pick. Thorin was it.

Apart from the demand that Bilbo rest a little bit before he left to get the damn bottles, he kept playing with Bilbo’s hair, trying to weave a braid or two in it.

“Hello, Bombur,” Bilbo said, grinning at the chef. “Have you anything befit of a Hobbit on death row.”

The clattering stopped and the smiles the cooks sent him died.

Bilbo laughed. “Not the king. My father.”

The sighs were collective and the resumed their work.

“Don’t go scaring us like that, Mr. Bilbo,” Bombur said, setting a plate of roast chicken and gravy in front of Bilbo. “You’ll ruin the soufflé for tonight.”

Bilbo winced. “Ooh, _never_ let a Hobbit ruin another chef’s cooking. They’ll just cry along with you. Thank you, Bombur, and I told you to drop the ‘Mister.’”

“Politest thief in Middle Earth, indeed. It’d be rude of me to not return your mannerisms.”

“Ha! You should meet my father, then if you think so,” Bilbo said, trying not to laugh.

Bombur shrugged and returned to the pot and allowed Bilbo to eat in peace.

A few minutes later, he thanked them for lunch and went to the library. Rest or not, Bilbo felt he was climbing walls. He wanted to get _out_ of this place and back home as quickly as possible!

He felt he might read through the library’s entire selection of Westron texts before he started asking if there was anything in Sindarin.

Something made him doubt it.

Bilbo smiled at Ori, retrieving the book he’d been reading currently, and sequestered himself at a table by a window looking out of the mountain and toward Dale.

It was his favorite spot so far as it had the most light one could wish for when reading. Bilbo found his place and laid the book on the table, almost leaning over it.

A hand touched the back of his head, rudely dragging him away from the book, pulling at the rings of Bilbo’s curls, and trying to weave them into braids.

Bilbo tensed and his hands shook. The scent of pepper and cinnamon told him it was Thorin standing behind him.

He felt Thorin lean down and press his nose into his hair.

 _That’s it_ , Bilbo thought. He pushed his chair back into Thorin and slammed his fist into the King’s jaw. Thorin massaged his jaw, stunned. Bilbo closed the book and handed it to Ori.

“I’ll see you at dinner.”

“O-okay, Bilbo.”

Bilbo grinned as he left. Punching Thorin felt more satisfying than he thought it would.

#

“You punched the king?!” Nori shouted.

Dori looked sick and excused himself to sit down.

“Ask your brother,” Bilbo said, nudging Ori. “He was there.”

Ori nodded. “His majesty walked off after Bilbo left. He was kind of wobbly. I just guess he’d not been punched like that before. At least not on the battle field or at the training grounds.”

“How’d it feel?” Nori asked.

Bilbo smirked. “Satisfying. Very satisfying. That should keep him from playing with my hair. Or sniffing it…I need a shower.”

“He keeps playing with your hair?” Dori asked. If Bilbo didn’t know better, he’d say Dori was scandalized.

“Yes. Hopefully he’ll stop now.”

“Or he’ll pin you against the wall next time—”

“ _Nori_ ,” Bilbo, Dori, and Ori snapped.

Ori shoved Nori and turned to Bilbo. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it sounds like the King is interested in you. He’s being extremely bold. So, in a way, the punch was well deserved. Usually, only your family can touch your hair other than yourself. Each braid describes your accomplishments, your profession, your class, and so on. Usually the only other person who can touch your hair outside your family is your lover.”

“No…”

“Oh, yes, Brother,” Nori said. “Our king wants to bend you over his desk and have his filthy way with you.” Dori tossed a lump of coal at Nori, who yelped and rubbed his offended shoulder, glaring at him.

Bilbo shook his head. “That’s not right…not that I mind, he’s fetching, for a Dwarf, but that’s breaking I don’t know how many bloody rules.” He slumped in his seat. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

“What about the bottles?” Nori asked.

“Oh, I’ll get those bottles,” Bilbo said. “I got to get the bottles.”

“Why? If the king is so grotesque to you, why not just run?”

“Because I would be going home not just empty handed, but also without the ring,” Bilbo said. “Just by getting caught I’ve become an embarrassment to the family name. My father would kill me. He might kill me anyway because _I should have been home by now_ —yes, Dori, I wrote the letter and sent the combs, I’m sure my mother will love them—the ring’s a family heirloom. I need it with me or else I won’t just be killed, I’ll be tortured and flayed first.”

Nori sighed, scratching his chin. “Then we go to the Greenwood?”

“Yes.”

“Why are we still here then? You want to get out of here as soon as possible right?”

Bilbo nodded.

Nori stood. “Then get your bag and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Bilbo grinned. “Let’s.”

Dori shook his head. “If you lads get caught, I’m _not_ bailing you out this time.”

#

Bilbo and Nori snuck into the Halls of the Elven King with the aid of a Dwarven caravan hoping to sell their wares at some fair or other.

They handed their passports the guard and thanked him for his time, slipping into the crowd and into the shadows.

“If I were a king and had golden wine bottles, would you keep them in the cellar?” Bilbo asked. Nori shook his head, wrinkling his nose.

“They’re filled with wine, so they’d have to be kept cool.”

“Anywhere like that here?”

“Couple underground springs, I guess,” Nori said. “But we’d need a map.”

Bilbo pulled out a sheet of parchment.

“Is that a map of Thranduil’s hall?”

“Courtesy of his royal lecherousness.”

Nori clicked his tongue. “You _really_ don’t like him touching your hair.”

Bilbo shook his head and unfolded the map.

There were several underground pools that were cold enough to keep the wine (and a few hot springs as well, which Nori took delight in pointing out). But only one was directly below the King’s quarters and guarded by sentries.

Getting out of the Greenwood was another thing they’d have to worry about. The gates were guarded by magic and only those by leave of the king may come and go. It was likely they’d have to wait out the night before making their escape and return to Erebor.

They memorized the route and Nori left to get ingredients for sleeping powder while Bilbo waited for night to fall.

 _Just one more task_ , he told himself. _One more task and then I can go home to the Shire._

Nori returned and made the powder, pouring the dust in a few little bags for them.

Nori smirked. “Ready?”

Bilbo returned the grin. “I was born ready.”


	7. Chapter 7

_If only I had the Ring_ , Bilbo thought pressed against the wall. _That would make this insanely easier to do._ Once the Elves had passed by, Nori and Bilbo raced down the stairs leading to the cool spring underneath the King’s bedroom. Nori kept lookout while Bilbo searched for the entrance, knocking on the stone with a spoon Nori lent him.

Bilbo found it and pushed. The door scraped on the floor and they entered a dark cavern lit by torchlight. A fountain stream trickled into a pool surrounded by rocks. In the middle of the room were the bottles. Bilbo approached them, the glass bottles he had filled with dirt ready to take the place of the gold ones.

Once the bottles were in his bag, he and Nori made their escape. “You know,” Nori said, once they were out of the palace. “Would it really be so bad catching the attention of a king?” he asked.

“A thief and a king?” Bilbo repeated. “Sounds like a fairy tale instead of a possibility.”

“He likes you. And he’s not that bad looking.”

“No, he’s not,” Bilbo agreed. “And he does like me. Any other time and if he were any other person, I’d be flattered, but being held captive sort of takes the romance of the situation away.”

“You wouldn’t have to steal anymore,” Nori pointed out.

“It’s not about need when it comes to my family,” Bilbo said. “It’s what a Baggins is. The head of the family has always been _The Burglar_. I’m my father’s only child. There’s too much at stake. You steal because you must. I steal because it’s part of my family’s legacy. That is all there is to it.”

“So you’d never give it up?” Nori asked. “Stealing, I mean. Not if it means finding love?”

“Love isn’t something many Bagginses have managed to hold onto. My father was lucky. Myself, I’m attracted to men and I’m expected to have a son to pass the name of Burglar onto when the time comes. Love was never on the table for me.”

Nori gave him a pitying look. Bilbo chose to ignore it, staring at the gates, waiting for it to open. By dawn, they opened to admit another caravan. This time, from Dale. Nori and Bilbo slid between the guards and the carts and out the gate. Once the gates closed, Bilbo and Nori bumped fists and turned back onto the road toward Erebor.

“Personally I’d find being called the King’s Consort a step up in life. Or three steps.”

“I’ll have you know, the Baggins family is _perfectly_ respectable,” Bilbo snapped. “ _Without_ being married to kings.”

“I’m just saying if he likes you, he might not be willing to let you go. He’ll just throw more tasks at you until yourself fall in love with _him_.”

Bilbo scoffed. “He can’t hold me forever. And I doubt anything I might feel for him will be real in that case.” Nori hummed as though he wanted to refute that.

#

They separated at the palace’s north entrance. Bilbo bade Nori goodbye and climbed the stairs, the bottles secure in his bag. A guard led him to the throne room and let Bilbo enter as a council came to an end. The nobles filed out, hardly sparing him a glance beyond either curious or scathing.

“You’ve been missed,” Thorin said, lounging on his throne. “Where have you been these last days since I saw you?”

“Since I punched you, you mean,” Bilbo said, arching a brow. “A well deserved punch if I may say so.”

“You may,” Thorin said, smirking, rubbing the offended jaw. The bruise was barely noticeable now, a dull yellow on his skin above the line of his beard. “You’ve an impressive right hook.”

Bilbo bowed. “Thank you, _my lord_. I come bearing a gift.” He straightened, reaching into the bag and presented the bottles. “Three golden bottles of Dorwinion wine. As requested. This time, I hope you will keep your end of the bargain.”

Thorin stared at the bottles expressionless before shifting his gaze to Bilbo. “Had I given you permission to carry out this task?”

Bilbo furrowed his brow. “I fail to see why I had to wait for your _permission_ to leave the mountain and carry out the task you gave me. I fulfilled it. Are you going to renege again?”

“I wouldn’t have to if you had been patient,” Thorin said, standing. He descended the throne and picked up a bottle. “Either way, you have done well.”

“Then let me go home.”

Thorin shook his head. “That is not how contracts work—”

“This is _not_ a contract!” Bilbo shouted. “You can’t keep me here against my will! I have done what you asked! If you want to keep me prisoner here, then say so!”

“I don’t,” Thorin said.

Bilbo blinked. “What?”

“I don’t want to keep you prisoner. I want you to stay here with me. Willingly.” He took Bilbo’s hand in his. “Have I not been clear?”

“I’m afraid our people have _very_ different customs. You’re lucky I’ve friends who are Dwarves and willing to explain how forward you’ve been.”

“Yes, I’ve been forward. It is my impression than Hobbits live barely a little longer than Men. So I figured it would be better to be bolder than I normally would in this situation.” Bilbo tensed. Oh, the things he wished to say. Horrid things that would only get him killed before the end. Instead, he fled the throne room, shoulders hunched and teeth grinding against each other.

_Damn Dwarves! Curse them and their…their…_

There was simply no word good enough to describe his ire. Bilbo found a deserted hall and paced around before slamming his fist into the stone until his skin bled and he slid to the ground, tears sliding down his cheeks.

 _I should have listened to Dad_ , he thought, hiding his face in his knees.

After a while, Bilbo wiped his eyes, thinking of a plan. He needed to get the Arkenstone and his ring back. Trial and error have proven he couldn’t do this task alone, so he stood and walked back to Nori’s, hoping he would be willing to help him. It’d be asking a lot from Nori, after all.

#

“You don’t have to if it’s too big,” Bilbo said, wringing his hands together as Nori appraised him. “It’s just, I can’t stay here anymore and I can’t return to the Shire empty handed.”

“You’re asking a lot, Bilbo.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Nori leaned forward, chewing the lip of his pipe. “Because I’ll be banished from Erebor. I’d never be able to return home to my brothers. They can get on without me, true…” he sighed, scratching his chin. “Well, it’ll prove a challenge at that and it’s not like Dori likes me being home anyway.”

“You know that’s not true.”

Nori shrugged. “Let’s do it,” he said. “You get your ring back. Meet me in Dale tonight. I’ll have the Arkenstone by then. The Shire _better_ be a nice place.”

Bilbo grinned. “Safest place in Middle Earth. And the most peaceful. We even live underground.”

Nori hummed. “Well, at least you do _one_ thing sensibly. The King keeps your ring on him, though, or so I heard.”

“From?”

“Dwalin.”

“Ah,” Bilbo nodded. “I’ll handle the king. I think that’ll be easier than you think.”

“For your sake, I hope so.”

#

Bilbo snuck back into the palace, hiding in the shadows while the guards passed by. Once they were gone, he searched for the King’s quarters. A maid exited a room with a tray and Bilbo hid in the other wall.

“Goodnight, your majesty,” she said, bowing before closing the door.

Bilbo waited for her footsteps to fade before he approached the door and slipped inside. Thorin sat in a recliner by the fire, head bowed. Occasionally, Bilbo heard the rustling of a page being turned. He closed the door and breathed in slowly, letting the breath calm and relax him.

“Your majesty?” he said.

Thorin jumped up, a knife in his hand and the book fell to the floor with a dull _thunk_. Bilbo held his hands up.

“Peace! It is only me.”

Thorin lowered the knife and returned it to the sheath strapped around Thorin’s belt.

“I wanted to apologize,” Bilbo said, hands behind his back. “It was most childish of me to run out like that. It’s just that I’m homesick. And your advances have been…startling, I suppose I could say. It’s nothing like how anything is done in the Shire, so it quite threw me for a loop.”

No response. Bilbo swallowed. “That’s all. Goodnight, Thorin.” He gave a small bow and turned to the door, curling his fingers around the bar.

“Wait,” Thorin said, taking Bilbo’s arm in his hand. It’s firm, but gentle. Bilbo supposed he didn’t wish to hurt him, but neither did he want him to leave. “I forgive you, if only because I would behave the same if I was kept from home.”

“Then why won’t you let me go home?” Bilbo asked, jutting his bottom lip out.

Thorin swallowed, wetting his lips. “Because I am in love with you, Bilbo,” Thorin said. “And I fear it is not in your nature to stay if I were to let you go.”

Bilbo blinked, staring at Thorin before pushing up on the balls of his feet. He pressed his mouth to Thorin’s, closing his eyes. Thorin tensed for a moment before he answered the kiss, leaning down to wrap an arm around Bilbo’s waist and to card the other through his hair.

Bilbo gripped Thorin’s jerkin in his fists. Thorin lifted Bilbo into his arms and Bilbo locked his arms around Thorin’s neck, allowing himself to be carried to the bed.

 _Sad and presumptuous idiot_ , he thought.

Thorin sat down on the bed with Bilbo’s legs on either side of his hips, knees pressed into the bed. Bilbo licked Thorin’s lips, pleased with the little moan that escaped the Dwarf and the tongue that slid out to greet his, prying its way into Bilbo’s mouth.

Bilbo slid his hands down Thorin’s chest, listening for the Ring’s hum. If the King kept it on him, it was all the more reason for Bilbo to take it back before it started to corrupt him. Really, he was doing both of them a favor. He’d get his family heirloom back and he’d save Erebor from having another mad king.

 _It sings,_ his father said. _Especially in times of intense emotion. Keeping it near you outside of when you work can be dangerous because its call will attract unsavory people if left to its own devices. You can control it but only if you don’t underestimate its power._

Bilbo slid his hands back up almost delighted at the way the king shivered beneath his ministrations before he pinpointed where the ring was:

Thorin’s left pocket.

Bilbo slid his hands down Thorin’s chest again, nibbling on his lips. He slides one hand under Thorin’s tunic, moaning into Thorin’s mouth when the king yanked is hair. Bilbo rolled his hips against Thorin’s groin, eliciting another groan. His hand slipped into Thorin’s pocket…

And Thorin grabbed his wrist, pushing Bilbo back, is eyes blazing with fury.


	8. Chapter 8

_Bilbo slid his hands back up almost delighted at the way the king shivered beneath his ministrations before he pinpointed where the ring was:_

_Thorin’s left pocket._

_Bilbo slid his hands down Thorin’s chest again, nibbling on his lips. He slides one hand under Thorin’s tunic, moaning into Thorin’s mouth when the king yanked is hair. Bilbo rolled his hips against Thorin’s groin, eliciting another groan. His hand slipped into Thorin’s pocket…_

_And Thorin grabbed his wrist, pushing Bilbo back, is eyes blazing with fury._

“What are you doing?” Thorin growled.

“What do you think?” Bilbo sneered back. “You don’t know anything about my ring and you _keep_ it in your _pocket_.”

“I feel you did the same.”

“I kept it in a tightly sealed _pouch_. Do you underestimate the power of your ring? I do _not_ underestimate _mine_! If you don’t give it back to me it will corrupt you—”

“Do you not know why?” Thorin growled, shoving Bilbo off and retrieving the ring from his pocket. He tossed it in the fire. Thorin grabbed the tongs and pulled the ring out, dropping it on the stone. “When you first came here, and I took the ring from you, something felt… _evil_ about it. So I did a little research and came across a copy of a certain text from Gondor. Your _family heirloom_ is the One Ring of Sauron! How did your family come by this cursed Ring?!”

Bilbo crossed his arms and snarled at him. “I don’t have to answer you.”

“Yes, you do,” Thorin said. “Your family has kept it for generations. You must have stories about how you got the ring when for centuries it had been said to be lost!”

He shook his head. “About five centuries ago there were two Hobbits of Stoorish origins—I don’t expect you to know what that means—named Sméagol and Deagol. They were cousins, and they went fishing one day. Deagol fell in the water and found a ring. He brought it home and passed it on to his son who passed it to his son and so on until there were no sons to pass it down to and the eldest daughter married a Baggins, who passed it to his son and so on and eventually, we started using the ring to steal from others behind a mask of _respectability_. My great-grandfather just so happened to be the best of us all. He _perfected_ burglary. And that’s the short of it.”

Thorin paced the room. “You’re not leaving until you end this madness and get rid of it.”

“How? The Ring’s indestructible. Nothing can destroy it.”

“Oh there is something. I’ve already sent for a wizard to tell us what to do with this… _abomination._ ”

“It is _mine_ ,” Bilbo shouted. “You don’t get to decide the fate of it—”

“Even if it means the fate of every man, woman, and child in Middle Earth? No, more than that: in _Arda_?! Keeping the Ring will only bring your family doom! You may have been able to master it but you do not control it!”

“Oh, I know that. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been caught,” Bilbo sneered.

“And you’d have run out of Erebor with a duplicate Arkenstone instead.” Thorin glared at him. “For once in your life, do the honorable thing, Bilbo, and help me destroy the Ring before Sauron gets it.”

Bilbo scoffed, crossing his arms. “So the whole being in love with me was just a stunt—”

“No, that is genuine,” Thorin said. “Like the story of how you got your ring, my people have a few stories we like to tell. Hardheaded as we are, most Dwarves are romantics. There is a legend that when our creator made our souls from stone, he swung his hammer too hard and broke the soul in half, and placed the two halves in two different bodies. This loss is felt between both parties and they seek each other out, living through a longing until they find each other. I understand Hobbits are different from us, but I believe that you are my One, Bilbo.”

Bilbo shook his head. “You’re _mad_ ,” he said. “Now give me my ring and let me go! It is not the Ring of Sauron and I am _not_ your One!”

Thorin grabbed his shoulder. “I would not lie to you, Bilbo. I love you. The Ring is dangerous. Keeping it will only bring the Shire ruin. _Wait_.”

“No.”

“Bilbo, _please_ listen to reason.”

“It is not yours, so you do not get to decide its fate.”

Two pounding knocks pulled them out of their conversation. Thorin opened the door and Dwalin came in, dragging Nori with him by the scruff of his neck.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“He isn’t talking, but I’d give my beard if it wasn’t the Hobbit who put him up to stealing the Arkenstone,” Dwalin said.

Bilbo groaned, hiding his face in his hand. Thorin gripped the back of a chair and looked at Bilbo with such hurt and betrayal that Bilbo had to turn away to avoid feeling guilty.

“Take them to the dungeon until the wizard comes,” Thorin said. “And once we decide what we’ll be doing about _this_ ,” he picked up the ring and returned it to his pocket. “They will stay there. No food. Just water. They are not to be touched, they are not to speak or be spoken to. Have them gagged and blindfolded.”

Bilbo felt cold. What sort of death sentence was _this_?!

“Yes, Sire,” Dwalin said, beckoning two guards.

Bilbo ran for the window. The guards chased after him, wrestling him to the ground and binding his hands and feet. Bilbo thrashed, trying to bite. They gagged him with linen and tied a leather blindfold over his eyes.

“Are you sure you want to do this to the Hobbit? They need the earth and sunlight.”

“I won’t be made a fool of, Dwalin. I gave him a chance to roam free in Erebor and _this_ is how he repays me. Harsh, it may be, but this family of thieves have tormented too many people for too long.”

“It may be hopeless for him then…”

Their voice faded as Bilbo was carried away. He yelled through the gag, wiggling.

“Shut him up!”

Someone rammed him into a wall and everything went black.

#

“It may be hopeless for him then,” Dwalin said. Thorin sat down, hiding his face in his hands. “You are certain it is him?”

“Yes,” Thorin said. “I am _very_ certain.”

“He’s only going to give you trouble, Thorin.”

“Don’t I know it?” He smiled wryly, “Half the time I want to rip my hair out because of him and other times I want to kiss him and most days it’s _both._ But what of you and Nori? This dog and cat game you two have must get tiring.”

Dwalin scowled at Thorin. “It’s not like that.”

“You, my friend, are in denial. Do not think I don’t know you enjoy hunting him. He might not realize you like him, but I have noticed.”

“There is _nothing_ of the sort between me and Nori. Out of the two of us, you’re the dramatic one.”

“Perhaps,” Thorin said, leaning back in his seat. “Is the wizard on his way?”

“The last letter said he’d be here in three days.”

“Then Nori and Bilbo will stay in the dungeons for three days. On the fourth, have them brought to the bath house and feed them as much as they like. On the fifth, we hold council and figure out what to do about the Ring. It cannot stay here and it cannot go back to the Shire.”

“Nor can we get rid of it. That’ll just be stalling the inevitable again.”

Thorin hummed his agreement. Whether Bilbo’s story was true or not probably didn’t matter, but it’d be something to consider. To have Isildur’s Bane in his pocket somewhat frightened Thorin. He kept the Arkenstone locked up for a reason and now he had something _far worse_ with him.

It called to him. Sang to him. Promised him his darkest desires—Bilbo being one of them. It was hard to ignore it, but he did what he could, taking an extra hour or two at the training grounds, jumping into cold water, busied himself with work…

Anything so long as he could ignore it.

And of course there was the Burglar. Bilbo Baggins himself. He was young and foolish. And he was fair to look upon. His spun gold hair gleamed in the light and his eyes sparkled like jadeite. He was witty and his tongue quite sharp if he decided to use it. Bilbo might have stolen something from Thorin after all, given the way Thorin’s heart beat faster in Bilbo’s presence.

Thorin’s breath would come short and when he touched Bilbo the strands of his hair and the warmth of his skin lingered on Thorin’s fingertips. And when he kissed him this night, Thorin thought he had finally won him over; thought Bilbo had finally understood. Then he tried to steal the Ring and it had screamed at Thorin, alerting him to Bilbo’s deception. At times, Thorin couldn’t believe his One was such a petulant and haughty child!

Still, something had to be done about that family before long. Bilbo’s father would be far more experienced in thievery. If he decided to come, he could probably get away with the Arkenstone, Bilbo, the Ring, _and_ a good deal more of the treasure if he liked. He’d probably steal Nori away as well if he got it in his head to.

“Do you have any samples of Bilbo’s handwriting?”

“I believe so,” Dwalin said. “Nori’s brothers would have it. What are you going to do?”

Thorin smirked. “Bring Bilbo’s father here,” he said. “He might come if he thinks his son’s in danger. He _is_ the only heir, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then let us hope his father will come to his aid. And when, or if, he does…”

“We’ll be ready for him,” Dwalin said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…I got some questions for readers and I’d appreciate answers. 
> 
> Should the story go into a Lord of the Rings direction or should that be a sequel? Cuz that’s where it’s going.
> 
> Should I bring Bungo and Belladonna into the picture? Maybe they do show up and try to get Bilbo home and they also get caught? Cuz I can sorta see them getting roped into going on the quest to destroy the Ring in this ‘verse.
> 
> And if we go in a LotR direction, which characters other than Nori, Thorin, Dwalin, Bilbo, Belladonna, and Bungo should go on the quest?


	9. Chapter 9

_…I’m hiding now, but if I don’t get out soon, he will find me. Once that happens, there’s no hope. I will die. Please, Dad, help me._

_Bilbo_

Thorin reviewed the letter again as the ink dried, hastily written in a nearly perfect representation of Bilbo’s handwriting and, hopefully, his voice. Pleased with it, he folded the letter and sent it off with a raven. Now all he needed to do was wait.

Balin cleared his throat behind him, calling Thorin’s attention. Dwalin’s elder brother had served the family as an advisor and as a warrior for years. Dwalin and Thorin were but children when Balin first became the family’s advisor after his father.

His white beard came to his waist, as did his hair, decorated in braids signifying his status as a noble and a warrior. He wasn’t as battle hardened or foolhardy as Thorin and Dwalin were, but for the most part that was always chalked up to Balin’s age.

“Gandalf as arrived,” he said. “And is waiting for you in the throne room.”

Thorin thanked him and strode to greet the wizard. “You’re early,” he said on seeing Gandalf. “I expected you here in two days time.”

Gandalf harrumphed. “I’m never early nor am I late, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Of course,” Thorin said, smirking. “Wizards always come when they intend to. Nor do they say yes or no, are here or there…it’s bloody annoying and often inconvenient.”

Gandalf chuckled. “Perhaps we’ve known each other too long if you are confident enough to mock me so, son of Thrain. You say you have news of great importance. Well, out with it.”

“Clearly I’m not the only one comfortable with this relationship if you are bossing _me_ around. But very well. The One Ring of Sauron has come to Erebor.”

Gandalf’s grin faded and Thorin continued.

“It was found in the hands of a Hobbit who tried to rob me of the Arkenstone. He calls himself Bilbo Baggins. I asked you to come because I hoped you could tell me what to do. I can’t keep it in Erebor and resisting it’s call is getting harder.”

“You have it _on_ you?!”

“I do not trust it to be anywhere else at the moment,” Thorin said. “I fear what it would do to whoever I had guard it. The Arkenstone is one thing, but the Ring is quite another.”

“True. How long ago did it come into your possession?”

“About two months ago is when I discovered it. It was a little longer still when the Hobbit arrived.”

“You are _certain_ his name is Bilbo Baggins?”

“Positive. Why?”

Gandalf leaned on his staff. “I know his family. His grandfather—his _mother’s_ father—is a good friend of mine. I cannot fathom Bilbo’s father approving of this at all.”

“His father, actually, is the only who put him up to it. Bilbo came here to prove he could be an adult, it seems, as a test to see if he was truly ready to become the Burglar.”

Gandalf’s frown deepened. “ _The Burglar?_ ”

“The very same.”

“This is most disturbing and unexpected.”

“We can, hopefully, ask the Bagginses about this themselves when they get here,” Thorin said. “I’ve sent for them. Hopefully Bungo will come. I’m trusting that his son means more to him than he probably lets on.”

“He does,” Gandalf assured him. “Bungo is a hard man and is rarely open with his affection. He had to be. Bilbo was and is quite rebellious, but he does love his son dearly. He will come. Where is Bilbo now?”

“The dungeons. He and one of his new friends, Nori son of Riika, are both there. I was going to have them stay there until you arrived _two_ days later.”

“I would like for them both to be brought to me. There is much to talk about and I would like to have answers myself from him.”

“Of course,” Thorin said, waving at a guard. “Bring the thieves.” The guards left and Thorin turned back to Gandalf. “What exactly are you going to do to Bilbo?”

“I only intend to ask him a few questions. How the ring came into his family’s possession and the like. Why they decided it was all right to rob others would be another thing to ask. Surely there’s a tale behind _that._ ”

“Perhaps,” Thorin said, crossing his arms. “You won’t hurt him, will you?”

Gandalf arched a brow. “And why are you so curious as to what I’ll do to get the information I desire?”

“Is it really necessary for me to answer you when you have not answered me?” Thorin said.

Gandalf hummed, staring at Thorin. Thorin met his gaze with a glare. “You need not worry, Thorin. I won’t hurt him, though I cannot promise I won’t shout.” Thorin nodded.

“Fair enough.”

“I have answered you, but you have neglected to answer me.”

“Knowing you, there is no need to say anything,” Thorin muttered. “Why I do not want the Hobbit harmed is not your concern.”

Gandalf’s lips quirked up into a smile. “Really?”

Thorin arched a brow at the wizard. Surely he wouldn’t have to spell it out for him. He might be able to admit it to his family, but to those _outside_ that close nit circle…

The people wouldn’t mind him falling in love with a man. It was a non-Dwarf they’d have issues with. And Bilbo’s position was not going to help him much.

“Would you like a chair?” Thorin said. “Only I am weary and I have would not wish to seem rude.”

“A chair would be nice,” Gandalf said. A servant ran out the door. Gandalf chuckled. “You’ve become an adult at last,” he teased. “It took you long enough.” Thorin glared at him. Wizards were arses. Never around when you need them, terribly cryptic, and pretend to be weary when it’s likely they’re just happy to get attention.

Thorin went to the throne and sat down, leaning down and sighing. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with the pads of his index finger and thumb.

“I’ve taken the liberty of inviting Lord Elrond to come and visit.”

Thorin snapped his eyes open and stared at him. “ _What_?”

#

He needed food. It was all that was on his mind in the last…

Bilbo didn’t know how long it’s been since he ate last. His feet and hands were chained to the wall, his eyes were bound and the only time the awful tasting gag was removed was when he was given water. To make it worse, his head hurt horribly. He didn’t quite remember what happened.

He remembered Nori being caught by Dwalin and brought to Thorin and the disappointment on Thorin’s face when he learned that Bilbo and Nori teamed up to steal the Arkenstone together. He guessed he was arrested, but he wasn’t sure.

The gate swung open.

“Food?” Bilbo asked once the gag was pulled off. “Please, I’m so hungry.”

The clanking of chains aggravated his headache. His arms fell and he was sure he scraped his hands on the stone. The weights around his ankles lessened and cold air caressed them instead.

He was lifted up and dragged out. Were they going to kill him? He should fight back. He didn’t want to die. He tried, whimpering, and his head swam.

 _Well, at least I won’t have to die at Dad’s hands_ , he thought as they continued to drag him up. He didn’t know how long they dragged him. Bilbo guessed the gallows or whatever it was Dwarves were more interested in was quite far. Maybe he was going to have a public execution.

If so, wouldn’t it be terribly rude to not let one look their best?

Maybe he lost his mind.

 _There are worse fates_ , he guessed. _And it’ll be over quickly._

They stopped.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Bilbo winced. Thorin’s voice was shrill and it echoed. “Did I tell you to harm him?! Fetch a healer immediately!” Bilbo’s legs gave out and someone caught him. “Bilbo! Bilbo, stay awake.”

“Let him lie down,” another voice echoed. It was familiar, but Bilbo couldn’t place who it was or why it sounded familiar. A blanket was thrown over him and hot hands cradled him, easing him onto the floor. “When did he last eat?”

“Some time last night before I had him arrested.”

A hand pressed to his cheek and he whimpered. It was too hot to the touch. He whimpered and pulled away from it, but the fingers tugged on the blindfold, pulling it up.

“Try to hold still, ghivashel.”

He felt a heat source shift away from him and he welcomed the blessed coolness.

“You’re not going to kill me?” he asked.

He didn’t want to open his eyes. He was afraid of what he’d see and he didn’t want to risk seeing Thorin again. The heat returned.

“What did you say?” Thorin asked.

“I asked if you were actually going to let me live.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I told you I love you, Bilbo. Whether I have your love in return does not matter. Not right now. Mizimel, open your eyes. Look at me.”

Bilbo shook his head. “My head hurts too much.”

Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s shoulders and dig his fingers into the skin. “Bilbo, open your eyes and _look at me_ ,” he hissed.

“Don’t want to,” Bilbo mumbled.

“Of all the times to be stubborn!” Thorin snarled. “I am not asking you! Now look at me.”

Bilbo opened his eyes, but only a sliver, enough to see Thorin. Black hair, pale skin, beard, blue eyes. “Happy now?”

Thorin sighed, cupping his cheek. “Yes,” he said. “Yes I am happy. A healer is on his way to see you. You’ll be all right, Mizimel. Just stay conscious a little longer.”

Bilbo turned his face away from Thorin, favoring the uninjured side. “I don’t understand you at all. I can’t fathom why you’d say you love me when all I’ve done is hurt you.”

Thorin sighed. “You haven’t hurt me yet.”

“I seduced you. Doesn’t that hurt?” Bilbo couldn’t imagine that _not_ hurting. If he had a crush on someone and they seduced him as only a means to an end, his heart would be broken.

“It did,” Thorin said. “But I think _this_ makes us even.”

Bilbo managed a small smile. “I guess so. That healer needs to hurry up. And I want roast beef, strawberry salad, and cornbread. Now.”

Thorin chuckled. “Anything to drink?”

“Rum. Or Elfish wine. Something strong.”

He hated feeling so vulnerable, but Thorin kissed his forehead and gave the order for food to be brought once the healer said Bilbo could eat. He wasn’t so bad, Bilbo guessed.

But he was _not_ admitting that aloud.


	10. Chapter 10

He was feeling much more like himself once he had eaten, and cursed himself for behaving like a fauntling earlier. The healer said it might just be the dizzy spells he went under when his head was injured. Oin was certain he was concussed, so Bilbo was encouraged to stay awake for a few hours and once it was clear he could eat smaller things without getting queasy, the meal he was waiting for was sent for.

“Don’t tax yourself too much, and do not fall asleep,” Oin repeated as he led Bilbo to the door. “I suggest drinking black coffee whenever you feel tired in the next few hours.”

Bilbo wrinkled his nose. “Any tea suggestions instead? I never liked coffee.”

“Well, if you can get black tea, then by all means drink it if that’s what you prefer, but you’ll need to drink more of it.”

“That’s fine,” Bilbo said. The door opened and two guards stood outside. Different guards than before, Bilbo guessed. Thorin was not happy with the ones who had taken Bilbo and Nori to the dungeon. They chained his hands behind his back and each of them grabbed one of his arms, leading him away from the Healing House. “Where am I to be taken to now?” he asked.

 “To the wizard,” the guard on his left said.

“Why?”

“Couldn’t say. Just that it’s the king’s orders.”

Well that was perhaps the most he would get out of them. But who was the wizard? And what would he want to talk to Bilbo about? Did Thorin tell him about his ring? Bilbo ground his teeth. If Thorin told anyone, who knew what would happen. Anyone would get in their head to steal it. Even kill for it. The ring was powerful and deceptive and only those with a strong mind could hope to control it.

Oh, if only it hadn’t slipped off! He could’ve…

Left Erebor weeks ago with a fake Arkenstone. Bilbo would have to admit it was a good fake, but Dad would’ve banged his head against the beam. His eyes may be starting to fail him a little bit, but he could still spot a fake from a glance.

He entered a sitting room. Thorin sat at a table, staring at a Man whose back was turned to Bilbo. “Sire,” the guard on Bilbo’ right said. The talking ceased and Thorin turned to them.

“Good. Unchain him and stand guard outside.”

“And if I run.”

“You won’t be able to,” Thorin said, shifting his gaze to the Man, who nodded. The shackles fell away and Bilbo massaged his wrists. “Please, take seat.”

Bilbo approached the table. He sat across from Thorin, never breaking eye contact with him. “I take it this has to do with my ring?”

“It does,” the Man said.

Bilbo turned to him and his eyes widened. “Gandalf?” he whispered. His shock passed and he leaned back in his seat. “And here I thought you were just some old coot who went around showing off with his fireworks and juts _called_ himself a wizard.”

Thorin coughed, shoulders shaking. Gandalf frowned. “I assure you, young Master Baggins, I am a real wizard. And your _ring_ is a deadly weapon. However did you come by it?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I’m sure _his royal arse_ already told you.”

“Yes. I was informed that it belonged to Bungo and he passed it on to you. But I want to hear the tale from you yourself.” Bilbo looked from Gandalf to Thorin. He took a deep breath. “Five hundred years ago, it came to an ancestor of mine, a Stoor named Deagol. He kept it and passed to his son, who gave it to his son and so on until it came to me. Somewhere along the way, we started using it to rob others. Preferably those who don’t need as much as they have. The ring’s power of invisibility was a wonderful asset.”

Through Bilbo’s confession, Gandalf steadily grew paler. His face was a nasty grey by the end of it. “And how, may I ask, did you manage to bungle your own burgle?”

“The ring slipped off my finger.”

“You are lucky Thorin has been so forgiving, Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf said. “That ring of yours is evil.”

“Yes, we know,” Bilbo said. “From the time I could talk, my father warned me of it. We are trained to ignore its call early on. It has always sought to kill us, slip away, and fall into the wrong hands. Trust me we’ve guarded the Ring like a dragon guards its gold.”

“Not well enough, and even went as far as to abuse it!” Gandalf shouted. “You have been incredibly lucky! Had another Durin been on the throne—save me from the stubbornness of the little folk!”

“Oi!” Bilbo snapped.

“I resent that!” Thorin growled.

“You both know perfectly well what I mean!” Gandalf snapped. “Bilbo, Thorin is from a line cursed with a sickness which he has fought long and hard against. Why do you think the Arkenstone has been locked away for so long and a replica put in its place? If anyone other than you has a mind strong enough to resist the Ring, it is him. Had it been his father, or, _the valar forbid_ , his grandfather…”Gandalf sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Thorin, until everyone else I need to yell at has arrived, lock it away. Elrond will be here in a matter of days. After which, we can destroy it.”

Bilbo jumped up. “Destroy it?!” he shouted. “That ring is a Baggins family heirloom! You can’t just—”

“I told you that destroying it is the only sensible option,” Thorin said.

“You did. I just didn’t believe you, you great sod! I won’t—”

“You have no choice!” Gandalf shouted. “You have _no idea_ how many lives you are putting at risk by keeping the Ring, by _using_ it so recklessly!”

“I hardly think it was reckless given we managed to keep it for five hundred years without incident,” Bilbo said. “Knowing what the ring really is doesn’t change anything. We’ve managed it this long.”

Gandalf stood. The room darkened. “When Orcs sense it, what will you do then?” he asked. “When the forces of the Enemy come for it, what will you do then? When weaker minds hunt you down and murder you for it, what will you do then? The Ring’s power is far beyond anything you can _handle_ , Bilbo Baggins. Thorin was right to lock you away and confiscate it! Normally I would not approve, but if you really believe you have the right to keep such an evil trinket or that I will allow it to continue then _think again_ , Master Baggins.”

Bilbo shuddered as the darkness faded away back to light. He refused to let it show, hiding his shaking hands in his lap. “My father is going to be furious with me. He’s probably already angry that I’ve taken so long. I can’t go home empty handed.”

“If you do this, you will change your family’s legacy,” Thorin said softly. “Become honest for real. Your people might not know what you did, but Dwarves, Men, and Elves will recognize you as a hero and our savior. You will return with the greatest of honors. No king would dare have you bow before him. I know you want to go home, and I am sorry I have kept you prisoner here, but it was necessary.”

“If you were sorry, you would let me go.”

“I would if the circumstances were different.”

Bilbo sighed. “I don’t have a choice?”

“You can choose to do the right thing willingly,” Thorin said. “And that would make this whole ordeal that much easier to handle rather than have us force your hand.”

“But that is entirely up to you,” Gandalf said, pulling out his pipe. “Lord Elrond will be here and I assure you he will be just as livid as I am.

“To keep you from escaping in the meantime while he and your parents arrive, I have cast a spell on this room. Its large enough for you, has a proper bathroom and kitchen and a balcony with a garden for you to work in if you like. If you need anything the guards outside will see to it. You’ll have your six meals a day and a librarian will be up to show you their selection of books.”

“So this is another cell. Certainly nicer than the accommodations in the dungeons,” Bilbo muttered. Neither Gandalf nor Thorin answered him. Bilbo sighed, leaning back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “I would like to be alone for a while now.”

“Bilbo—”

“Save it. You may claim to love me, and tell all who listen that I’m your One or whatever you like, but you can’t keep me caged here like some pet.”

Thorin at least looked guilty. “It is not my intent or my wish to trap you.”

“Well, you have,” Bilbo snapped. “I’m going to keep whatever I have left, though, including my heart and whatever dignity I have left.”

Thorin stood. “Bilbo—”

He held his hand out, cutting Thorin off. “I don’t want to hear it,” he said. “I don’t understand why you are doing this. I don’t understand what you expect to accomplish in keeping me prisoner, but whatever it is, the only thing you’ve managed to do is make me despise you.”

Thorin stared at him as though Bilbo had struck him unprovoked. He leaned on the table to keep upright. “I see. In that case, I will take my leave.” He left, closing the door softly behind him.

“Was that really necessary?” Gandalf asked. Bilbo refused to look at him. “Thorin has only ever done what he deems is best for his people and those whom he loves. If he loves you, Bilbo, you couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

“Do friends keep each other prisoner? Or is that how Dwarves treat their friends?”

“It would not be necessary if the Burglar was not a dangerous being to have running amuck.” Gandalf stood. “Thorin may be keeping you captive, Bilbo Baggins, but any other King would be doing the same thing as he if you had gone to them. And many of them would have been far less forgiving. Thorin has been surprisingly lenient with you and from where I stand, you’ve abused his kindness.”

“I did not ask for him to fall in love with me!” Bilbo shouted. “Get out! Get out and leave me alone!”

Gandalf sighed.“You know what must be done. I only hope you have not been too brainwashed by your family’s misguided legacy. I hope you will at least consider apologizing to Thorin. If you think all this is bad, think on this: if you had gone to Ered Luin, or Ered Mithrin, Rivendell, Mirkwood, Rohan, or Gondor you would have been executed. It was expected that you would have met your death here weeks ago. Why, may I ask, would Thorin spare someone when if it any other person, they’d be dead? Think about it.” He went to the door and closed it behind him.

Bilbo leaned back in his seat. _Well, you’re in a right pickle now, Baggins._


	11. Chapter 11

~Two Months Later~

No words could adequately describe Bungo’s ire toward his fool of a Took son.

He told him this venture was beyond him. But as always, Bilbo _had_ to be reckless. At first, he wanted to let Bilbo rot a little longer, but Belladonna had pointed out that Bilbo had been gone _six months_.

He stewed long enough.

“Now isn’t that a sight!” Belladonna exclaimed, eyes bright as they gazed on the Lonely Mountain at last.

They had earned a few stares on the way there, inquiring who they are and where they hailed. One Man had the gall to proposition Belladonna. They may be small, but Bungo wasn’t about to let a blasted Man put his hands on his wife! Bungo hoped he was still limping.

“It’s certainly grander than other lands I’ve seen,” he admitted with a snort.

It was gaudy to him. Dwarves: always one for flamboyance, that race.

The guards stopped them. “Apologies, Sir, but may you and the lady please stand aside?”

“I beg your pardon?” Bungo asked, snarling.

“It’s only for a moment,” The guard said, hooking his hand around Belladonna’s arm, pulling her aside, Bungo followed, reaching for a throwing in his back pocket. A hand seized his wrist roughly and pinned it behind.

“So these are Hobbits?”

“Looks just like how the Captain described them, feet and all,” the one who had Belladonna said. He tipped his head to her. “Apologies, Madam.”

“What is this all about now?”

“Bilbo screwed up royally,” Bungo growled. “When I get my hands on that—”

Belladonna glared at him and he silenced. Well, he’d deal with their son when they found him. If he happens to _accidentally_ elbow the lad’s nose, who’d blame him?

The guards led him and Belladonna up a flight of stairs to a room. Two guards stood out front and opened the door. They shoved Belladonna and Bungo inside without a word and the doors slammed shut.

“Mum? Dad?” Bungo turned around. Bilbo sat at a table, a book in hand. He looked shocked. He closed the book. “Are you really here or have I lost my mind?”

“Both,” Bungo said. “What is this place?”

Bilbo blinked. “My cell.” Cell? Belladonna sat at the table and Bungo crossed his arms as Bilbo told his tale. Lost the Ring. Failed to steal the _real_ Arkenstone. Twice. (Now that was bloody pathetic!) “Now why are you here?”

“We’re here because you asked us to come save your sorry arse,” Bungo snapped.

“Bungo!”

Bilbo glared at him. “I never sent a letter,” he said. Bungo took out the parchment and handed it to him. Bilbo unfolded the paper and read the contents. “You damned fool! It’s good, very good. Yavanna’s tits, I’m going to murder him!”

“Who?”

“The _king_ ,” Bilbo snapped. “He must have wrote this to get you here. Oh, Gandalf’s about somewhere too. You see: our ring apparently belonged to some Dark Lord an age ago or something of that ilk!”

Belladonna’s head snapped up and her cheeks paled. “Dark Lord? Sauron?”

“That’s who they say.”

She turned to Bungo. “Did you know?”

“First time I heard of it.”

“Oh, you fools! You brazen tomnoddies!” she shrieked. Bungo stared at his wife as though she had lost her wit. “How could we have been so ignorant? I always had my suspicions about the ring, but to hear it belonged to that _monster_!”

“Bella, sweetie—”

She shot Bungo a glare. “Well, I will not abide to have it in my house any longer, Bungo! Bilbo,” she turned on him. “What is Gandalf saying needs to be done about it?”

“To destroy it.”

Bungo turned and faced the Dwarf now standing behind them. He was quite tall for a Dwarf, with black hair streaked grey. He was dressed in leather and his hair was pulled out of his face. “Who are you?” Bungo said.

“You know that king I mentioned?” Bilbo said.

Bungo narrowed his eyes at him. “Looks more like a blacksmith to me.”

The King’s eyes flashed. “That would be because I had just been at the forges, Master Baggins,” he said. “My name is Thorin son of Thrain, King of Erebor. The letter that brought you here was penned by myself.” Bilbo leaned against the wall, scowling. “Your _heirloom_ is far too dangerous to exist. Like it or not, Gandalf believes the only true course of action would be to destroy it. As of yet, we are not entirely sure how to do so. The…” His face twisted into a grimace. “The _Elves_ will be here soon and when they arrive, we will hold council with them to discuss how to rid the world of it. Gandalf is also eager to shout at you.”

“Well, he need not,” Belladonna said. “I traveled many times before settling down. I have heard tale of the Ring by many. For it to have touched my son frightens me. Whatever is decided, we will see it done.”

Thorin nodded his head to her. “You are a wise woman, Mistress Baggins.” He turned to the door. “I will let the wizard know of your arrival. Food will be brought up for you soon.” He left and the door clicked shut.

Bungo turned to Bilbo, who stared at the floor. “Well this is a right mess to be sure,” he snarled. Bilbo’s shoulders hunched. “I told you to set your eyes on something _smaller_ , did I not?”

“You don’t have to yell.”

“Really?” Bungo scoffed. “This is an embarrassment, Bilbo! You were hasty, again, weren’t you? And _that_ is why the Ring slipped off your finger into enemy hands!”

“I’d hardly call him an enemy,” Belladonna snapped, stepping between them. “Do you even _know_ who Sauron was? What he _did_? No? You knew the Ring was treacherous, but simply did not know _how_ deep that evil went. The Baggins family is lucky to have survived so long with it! All forms of evil are called to it! What if Orcs or Goblins or worse sensed its power? Would you be able to forgive yourself is something happened to the Shire? Now, whatever Gandalf has to say, we listen. And if we must destroy it, then by the green lady I will do it myself if I must!” She paused, breathing hard, and waited for Bungo to challenge her claim. He wished he could. Took or not, Belladonna was usually the more sensible one in the family.

“Is the ring really that dangerous?” he asked instead. “We’ve held onto it for five centuries without incident.”

“I know,” she said. “But that does not mean there won’t _be_ an incident in the future. I’d feel better if it was gone, Bungo.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, wondering what to do. On the one, he wanted Belladonna to be happy and feel safe. At the same time, the ring has been a part of their family for generations. Getting rid of it or destroying it…

“Let me think on it, Love,” he said, kissing her forehead.

Belladonna nodded, accepting, but not agreeing. She turned to Bilbo, who had moved to staring out the window.

“Sweetheart?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bilbo said, not looking at her. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Belladonna sat across from him. “It might be for the best,” she said. “If the ring _really is_ the One Ring, then getting rid of it is the only sensible choice.”

“Not much for sense, then, are we?”

She pulled him into her arms. “You’ve always been a brilliant boy, Bilbo, and I have always been proud of you. We _both_ have always been proud of you.”

Bilbo relaxed. Bungo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on from the helplessness he felt for all of them. It was painful. He hated it. If they got rid of the Ring, what would happen to their family?

He picked up a book and flipped through it.

 _On the War of the Ring_ , caught his eye and he paused staring at the mural of a black clad knight with his weapon held up.

“Bilbo have you seen this?”

“Seen what?”

Bungo took the book to them and pointed at the knight’s hand. Bilbo stare at it: on the knight’s finger was a simple gold band.

Just like their ring.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note tag changes! *Points emphatically up at tags* Many changes made! And yes, this is the last chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> For part 1

Bilbo stood between his parents, arms crossed and staring anywhere but at the council of Dwarves and Elves before them. Seated side by side were Thorin and a stern Elf. Bilbo lifted his head and glared defiantly at them.

“So this is the Burglar,” the Elf said. His gaze had left Bilbo and landed on Bungo.

“What of it?” Bungo sneered.

The Elf sighed. “I would not have guessed that such a notorious thief would be a Halfling—”

“We are _Hobbits_!” Bungo snapped. “And not _half_ of _anything_! I’d thank you to remember that, _Elf_.” Thorin disguised a snort as a laugh and Belladonna sighed. Bilbo supposed she was just one toe out of line away from slapping the back of Bungo’s head. They sat down and Bilbo glared at two of the Elves who were staring at them curiously.

“Perhaps not,” the Elf said at long last, “But you _are_ a thief and what startles me is how long you kept the Ring, even were able to pass it on from parent to child for generations. It is…strange how great your family’s resilience to its evil is.”

“How many others should we expect to come?” Belladonna asked.

“We are still waiting on the wizard,” Thorin said, battling down a grin. “And there is a friend of Bilbo’s who will be showing up as well sooner or later—Dwalin, about time!”

Bilbo turned around to see Dwalin arrive with six other Dwarves. He recognized Nori, Dori, and Ori. But the other three he did not know. One he vaguely recognized from his first arrival here.

“So this is the Hobbit,” one of them said with an alto voice, staring at Bilbo. At first glance, Bilbo thought the Dwarf was a male, but the high voice and the black gown attested to her femininity. She hummed and sat beside Thorin. Side by side, Bilbo could see that they looked similar.

 _He didn’t tell me he had a sister_ , Bilbo thought. The two Dwarves with her filled the rest of the space. Bilbo and Nori exchanged a glance and Nori sighed, shoulders dropping as they too took their seats.

Now if only the wizard would hurry up, perhaps they could get started on the talks of how they’ll get rid of the ring. Bilbo slouched in his seat, feet extended. He didn’t care to stand on ceremony in front of these high and mighty lords. If they had a problem with it, they could shove their opinions up their asses.

“Gandalf!” the elf said when the Wizard finally arrived. “You’re late.”

“On the contrary,” Gandalf said. “You’re early.” The groans around the room made Bilbo appreciate the wizard just a little longer.

Thorin stood. “Allies from afar, we gather today to answer to the threat of Mordor. In my possession has come the One Ring of Sauron and it is agreed that it must be destroyed. Lord Elrond, you know of its treachery better than I,” he said to the Elf. “Would it be safe to assume you know how to destroy it?”

“I do,” the Elf— _Elrond_ , Bilbo corrected, _didn’t dad steal some candelabras from him once? Or was that Grand-Dad_ —said. “The Ring cannot be destroyed by any weapon we here possess. It can only be destroyed in the fires whence it came in the Fires of Mount Doom. One of you must do this.” He looked pointedly at Bilbo and his parents.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “No need to stand on ceremony,” he said. “I know you all want me to skip into Mordor and throw myself into that pit.”

“We don’t—”

Bilbo glared at Thorin. “You do,” he said. “You seem content to ignore that the Ring has been handled by my family for generations. We understand its evil. We don’t control it. We just don’t let it get a hold on us. It’s more our own willpower versus its own.”

“It slipped off your finger,” Elrond snapped.

“Didn’t I just say that we don’t control it?” Bilbo bit back.

Belladonna gripped his shoulder. “If neither my husband nor son carries it, then I will,” she said. Bilbo turned to her, feeling as though he’d been dunked in ice water. “They are reluctant to let it go, not because it has a hold on them, but because of the history it carries with our family.”

“Belladonna, may I have a word _privately_ ,” Bungo said. They slipped away. Bilbo watched them go, still feeling numb. He turned to the others.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “Just…please, don’t let them come.”

“We can’t stop them if they wish to come,” Elrond said. “But are you sure you offering to destroy it willingly?”

“For the sake of my parents? Yes. I don’t really care about what happens to me. Just…not them. They deserve to retire from all this. That was the point of the Ring being passed on to me. So if it keeps my parents from entering Mordor, then I will go.”

He refused to look up. He couldn’t meet their eyes. More specifically, he couldn’t meet Thorin’s.

“You have resisted this long,” Gandalf said quietly. “Why?”

“Because I don’t care about the world,” Bilbo said. “Elves, Dwarves, and Men are just as responsible for what is wrong in it just as much as Orcs are. My people have found a way around it. I don’t care what happens to you lot. You can go ahead and die for all I care, but my family…my friends…” Bilbo looked up at Nori. “They are the only ones who matter to me. Not glory, not honor. You can keep it. But I don’t want my parents walking into Mordor. They’re old. They should go back to the Shire and live the rest of their days in peace.”

Thorin opened his mouth to speak.

“I know I’m selfish!” Bilbo snapped and Thorin’s mouth shut. “I know that. But so are you. We’re all selfish, all right? And it was because of that selfishness that you kept me here. And it was also the reason behind my resistance to destroying the Ring. So if I’m going to do one selfless thing it won’t be for anyone but the people I care for. I guess it might as well be this. So give me a map and the Ring and I’ll get on my way.”

The silence deafened the room.

“You won’t go alone,” Thorin said. “I will go with you.”

“To make sure I do destroy it?” Bilbo asked.

“To make sure you aren’t alone,” Thorin said.

“As will I,” the lady Dwarf said. “But more to make sure you destroy it. Fili can rule as regent until we get back.” The blond Dwarf sunk a little in his seat and Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll go with you,” Nori said. “We’ve gotten this far. Who knows: might be fun.”

Two Elves glanced at each other and then at Elrond. “Father, we will go as well,” the one on the right said.

“Can’t let the little folk suck up all the glory,” the one on the left said.

Elrond nodded. “Keep safe.”

“We will,” they chimed.

Bilbo stared at them. “Why so many? Am I really that untrustworthy?”

“Not really,” Thorin’s sister said. “More that we would love to prove you wrong. Not everyone is as selfish as you believe. Not even you.”

Bilbo stood. “I’ll go…go get them. Make sure they aren’t tearing each other’s throats out.” He left before another word was spoken.

“…have to if I must!” Bungo shouted.

“And run off with it?!”

“If you want it gone, then so be it, but I do not want you walking into Mordor!”

“And you will if given the choice?”

“ _Yes_!” Bungo roared. “Damn it, Belladonna, _yes_! I would!”

“You don’t have to,” Bilbo said. “We’re done. I’m going. So you two go home or what not. I’ll get home when I can. If I can—”

“Absolutely not,” Belladonna snapped.

“Have you gone mad?” Bungo added.

“I’M GOING!!!” Bilbo shouted, startling them into silence. “Damn it, I’m an adult! How am I supposed to prove it if you keep acting like a safety net? I’m going so you two don’t have to! So _just deal_ with it and go home!”

He turned and strode away. Whatever else his parents might say, he didn’t want to hear them. Not today. Not ever. He knew he couldn’t go to Mordor like this, not without saying a proper goodbye to them, but for now, he just wanted to gather what courage he had buried deep in him.

He returned to his room. Once the door had closed behind him, Bilbo slid to the ground and hid his face between his knees. He wept. There was little else he could do.

#

He met his companions outside of the gates. The first he saw was Dwalin, who nodded his head to him. Thorin was talking to his sister privately and Bilbo passed him by to stand by Nori.

“Where are the Elves?”

“They’re coming,” Nori said. “Shouldn’t be much longer now.” He adjusted the strap on his back. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’d rather it be me than my mum, you know? I mean, would you want your brothers going?”

“No. I wouldn’t. Dori’s having a right fit about it and Ori’s threatened once or twice to come after us. He won’t. Dori’s got an eye on him…I thought you said your parents won’t be coming.”

“They aren’t,” Bilbo said.

“You sure you made that clear to them?” Nori asked. Bilbo turned around.

“Mum! Dad! I told you to go home—”

 _SMACK!!_ Bilbo clutched his cheek, staring at Belladonna. She placed her hands on her hips.

“We’re going with you, whether you like it or not,” she said. “Being of age does not make you an adult, Bilbo Baggins and you’ve proven that many, many times since you came of age.”

Bilbo turned to Bungo, who shrugged. “Listen to your mother.”

“But—this is _Mordor_.”

They looked at each other. “Just another adventure,” Belladonna said. “Besides, this isn’t _your_ mess, Bilbo. It’s ours. And we will clean it up as a family.”

Bilbo bit his lip. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Fraid not,” Bungo said, walking past him and Belladonna to strike a conversation with Dwalin. Belladonna patted Bilbo’s cheek.

“You’ll get used to it,” She said. “You’ll see it’s not all bad. There is good in this world, Bilbo Baggins, even if you have yet to see it. And it is the good that still exists that is worth fighting for. You’ll see that soon enough, sweetheart.”

She lowered her hand. “Now are we ready to go or not?”

“Just…just about.”

“Good. If you need me, I’ll be with Lady Dis. Poor dear needs advice about what to do about her youngest. He fancies an Elf or something like that.”

Bilbo watched her go. _Something good that is worth fighting for?_

He felt eyes on him and met Thorin’s gaze. Thorin turned away from him, eyes downcast.

_Maybe there is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a weak chapter! Might go back and make it a little stronger than it is now…
> 
> Anyway, I decided to make this a series. Very slow burn for Thorin and Bilbo, as well as for Nori and Dwalin. Expect more in the future. Reason I'm doing this is because the story is slowing down and drooping terribly, so I figured some time away from this AU would help it perk up a bit. Sorry for ending it so abruptly.


End file.
